


Testor Ego Amorem Perpetuum

by ABlackRaven



Series: Amare [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bisexuality, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Cedric Diggory Lives, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Hedric, Hurt/Comfort, I promise the soulmate thing isn't weird or cringy, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Or at least I really hope it isn't, Or does he, Panic Attacks, Romantic Soulmates, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Torture, Violence a bit worse than canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24331033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABlackRaven/pseuds/ABlackRaven
Summary: "Testor Ego Amorem Perpetuum."I Swear Perpetual Love.Cedric feels drawn to protect Harry Potter. Whether this be from Dementors on a Quidditch pitch or the tasks of a life-threatening tournament, he's determined to help him. He can't help but worry about the younger boy. Eventually friendship takes root and potentially...something more?Harry feels drawn to Cedric, safe when he is near. He certainly has no shortage of dangers in his life, from an abusive home life to the growing threat of Voldemort. He cant help the guilt that he puts Cedric in danger by proximity. Eventually friendship takes root and potentially...could he hope for something more?And when the end of the third task goes horribly wrong, will either of them survive?A rewrite of Book 4 revolving around Harry and Cedric.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory & Harry Potter, Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter
Series: Amare [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757755
Comments: 101
Kudos: 719
Collections: Harry Potter FFs, Oh My God They Were Soulmates





	1. Trouble Looks For Me

**Chapter 1: Trouble Looks For Me**

The day of the Quidditch match against Gryffindor dawned with considerably more than a “fair bit of rain.” The popularity of Quidditch, of course, demanded that the whole school turn out for the game, as usual. But as the spectators ran down the lawns to the field they were forced to fight and bow their heads against the wind, struggling with umbrellas and flapping cloaks as they went. 

Cedric Diggory found himself suddenly quite grateful for his older age and bigger build, usually that would be a detriment for a seeker, but against the younger Potter in this weather, it would turn to his advantage. This was quickly followed by a pang of worry, how would Potter fare in this weather? The younger boy was only thirteen...and small for his age...but there was little he could deal to help him, right? 

He led his Hufflepuff team, dressed in canary-yellow robes, confidently, onto the pitch across from the scarlet robed Gryffindor team. Cedric and the Gryffindor captain walked forward to shake hands; Cedric did his best for an amicable smile and was met with barely more than a nodd. Moments later Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that sounded shrill and distant

They were off. 

Within minutes Cedric was cursing the weather, his robes damp and cold on his skin. He’d never been more grateful for Imperturbable and Warming Charms. Over the wind the commentary couldn’t be heard; he had a difficult time tracking the progress of his Chasers against the Gryffindor team. The crowd was hidden beneath a sea of cloaks and umbrellas. 

Once again Cedric paused for a moment to appreciate the talent of the younger seeker in the air, Potter, even though he flew against him. He was dealing with this in glasses, a feat that was certainly in no way easy. He really was impressive...

When Wood called a time-out and Cedric finally got an update from his team on the score he cursed; as he had feared, they were left badly behind. At this point he would catch it just to get them out of the elements. Filled with renewed conviction they took back to the sky, Cedric skanning for any flash of gold. At one point he found himself nearly collided with Potter, who was streaking the opposite direction. 

The storm grew in strength, forked lightning followed immediately by thunder crashing across the sky. He had a feeling this game would pull on into the night if Potter or him didn’t catch the Snitch soon, and he wasn’t overly keen on any of them continuing in such weather. 

There! A flash of gold caught his attention in the next flash of light and Cedric banked, pelting as quickly as he could up the field after the Snitch. Instinct more than sight told him Potter was right behind him, gaining fast. He grinned, momentarily caught in the thrill of their chase. _This_ was the moment he loved in Quidditch. 

But something odd was happening. An eerie silence was falling across the stadium. The sounds that had surrounded him moments before were somehow muted, the roar of the wind turned down to a sudden, tense whisper. And Potter was no longer gaining on him, he was falling back. 

Something was wrong. Something deep within his soul, an instinct Cedric couldn’t even name the source of, was screaming at him. It could not be ignored. 

Turning away from the Snitch, he was filled with immediate horror at the sight that he beheld. Dozens of dementors hovered below Potter, their hidden faces pointed up at him. A horrible, shaking cold began to overtake him. 

Cedric watched Potter fall, remembering random remarks that the Dementors badly affected the younger boy. The Snitch or Potter, the choice was clear. All thoughts of Quidditch faded; within moments he was diving forward towards Potter’s falling body. An overwhelming need, instinct even, to protect the younger student had overtaken his actions. Beneath that instinct was a sickening fear that ran to the center of Cedric’s soul; the fear that he would not get there in time. 

_Come...on! Fly dammit!_

Time seemed to lose all relevancy. The wind stung his face, droplets of water digging into his skin like frozen daggers. He could feel the coldness of the Dementors creeping in around them, threatening to pull them both into a darkness from which they would not escape. As he drew nearer, almost within reach, Potter’s face caught his attention, illuminated momentarily in a strike of lightning. 

His features were twisted in horrible, pained anguish. 

Cedric caught the younger boy, feeling an overwhelming wave of relief as his arms wrapped around his crimson robes. His body, horribly cold, felt barely alive in his arms, and for a terrible moment he feared he wasn’t. They touched down on the ground roughly, Cedric bearing the brunt of the impact to try to protect Potter. The dementors pressed in. 

Silvery light erupted in the darkness around them. Cedric watched in awe as an ethereal phoenix of light, a patronus, began to run the dementors. Other figures joined it, banishing the cold that had overtaken the field. 

Cedric’s attention returned to the body still cradled in his arms, “Come on Potter…” He muttered. “Don’t give up on me now.” 

Potter finally gave a weak cough and took a shuddering breath, sending another wave of relief to overtake Cedric. The result of the Quidditch match, which he had spent the entire morning stressing about, hardly seemed remotely important anymore. Startling green eyes looked up at him. 

“...Diggory?” 

He found himself chuckling, “Thought you knew Potter, you’re supposed to stay _on_ the broom in a Quidditch match.” Potter smiled in return, before slipping back into unconsciousness. 

* * *

Cedric found himself hesitating before the dore of the Hospital Wing, unsure of what had driven him to come there. Before he had come, only to see the sea of crimson surrounding Potter’s bed and think better of it. In that moment he was sure something clear, almost instinctual, had driven him there. Now he hesitated, the words lost and muddled in his head. 

_What is there to say?_

He couldn’t just walk away silently though. Pangs of guilt hit him in the chest every time someone clapped him on the back to congratulate him on the win, guilt he could not just ignore. No one had listened when he argued the match should be postponed, and Gryffindor wasn’t allowed to call in a replacement until the six hour mark. Eventually Cedric had caught the Snitch just to get them out of the cold. Every demand for a rematch he made was met with opposition, and he hated it. 

Potter had landed himself in the hospital wing again, something he apparently had apparently proclivity for, he was _hurt_ , he had lost his prized broomstick, and people wanted Cedric to take the win for what it was and celebrate. Strange feelings overtook Cedric whenever his thoughts wandered to the younger boy, a desire to protect him. 

Part of this was a need to apologize, certainly. Part of this was decidedly a need to reassure himself that Potter was actually okay. And that was something Cedric couldn’t fully understand, but he couldn’t ignore it either. 

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and entered, assuming the air of confidence that was expected of him. It wouldn’t do to let his anxiety get the better of him now. Potter sat alone at his bed, looking off distantly through the window. Beside him on a chair rested the mangled and charred pieces of his Nimbus broom. 

Cedric cleared his throat, “Potter? How are you?” 

Potter turned, slightly startled, to meet his gaze, “Diggory? I’m alright I guess. Uh...thanks.” 

Cedric blinked, “For?” 

The younger boy frowned at him, “You caught me, right?

“Uh, yeah, I suppose I did. I mean, it was the only right thing to do Potter,” Cedric hesitated, glancing again at the broken broomstick. “I actually came to apologize to you. Wish I’d noticed sooner, could have maybe kept you from getting knocked out. No one will let me call a rematch.” 

Potter heaved a deep sigh, looking down at his hands dejectedly, “It’s okay Diggory.” 

Cedric scowled, “No, it’s really not. Your broomstick is in shambles! It’s not fair at all, especially since this is the first time you’ve lost a match. And it all but destroyed Wood’s chance for the cup,” He felt some of the tension in his back recede, leaving behind only the guilt. “Look, Potter, for what it's worth, I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner. I should have.” 

“It’s--” 

He shook his head, “And please don’t tell me it’s okay, because that's all anyone on your team tells me and it’s really not.” 

The younger boy frowned, then appeared to relent, “Then, for what it’s worth Diggory, thanks. It’s really not your fault. I’m kind of glad we ended up playing your team yesterday,” Potter smiled a bit, “At least Slytherin doesn’t get to gloat about this.” 

Cedric found himself smiling in return, “I suppose that is a bright side.” The doors to the Hospital Wing opened again, several of Potter’s friends walking in. Cedric got to his feet, “Well, Potter, I’d better be off. Uh…” He suddenly floundered for words again, “Get well...soon.” 

Potter nodded, “Thanks for stopping by.” 

Again he hesitated, turning just as he had taken the steps away to leave, “If you need anything,” Cedric searched for the right words, “Help with your coursework, whatever, let me know, alright?” 

_Where did that come from?_

“Right, sure, Diggory. See you around.” 

* * *

But, as it happened, Cedric really didn’t see much of Potter around throughout the year. Every once in a while he spotted the younger boy at meals, he never seemed to eat enough, or ran into him in the halls. With the separation of House and Year keeping them apart there weren’t many encounters between them at all. He doubted they exchanged more than a handful of pleasantries before final exams were suddenly rolling around and Cedric found himself caught up in the end of the year. 

As tradition would apparently have it, the end of the year could not pass without some excitement and Potter was soon landed back in the Hospital Wing. Again Cedric found himself drawn to the hospital wing, not entirely sure why. 

The rest of the school was eerily empty as he made his way to the Hospital Wing, most people taking advantage of the end of exams to visit Hogsmeade. He ran into Potter and his friends just as they were leaving. 

“Diggory?” Potter asked, sounding confused. 

“Hey, Potter,” Cedric hesitated, “Can we...talk for a moment?” 

“We’ll catch up in the common room Harry,” Granger suggested, pulling Weasley along with her. 

“Umm...okay.,” Potter turned to Cedric, “What’s up Diggory?” 

“Er,” He released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, “Let’s walk. You can call me Cedric, by the way.” 

“Sure, uh, same I guess.” 

For several moments Cedric was quiet, gathering his thoughts. Potter seemed to sense he needed the time and gave it willingly, the silence between them was comfortably amicable. Something about the younger boy’s presence was both calming and anxiety inducing. His brilliant green eyes were intense--Cedric found it somewhat difficult to meet his gaze. 

“You make a habit of landing in the Hospital wing?” 

Potter chuckled, “Yeah, I do. Not that I really look for trouble.” 

“Really?” 

He nodded, “Really. Trouble looks for me.” 

Cedric snorted, “Look, Harry, you...you worried me a bit. Clearly there was something going on, and I like to think if you maybe had help you might not have ended up in the Hospital Wing. I uh, I meant what I said, before.” 

Potter sighed, stopping at a window to stare out at the Black Lake. Cedric could almost feel the tension in his thoughts, something had happened that was consuming them. He was overwhelmed by the desire to be there for him, in any way he could. Returning the grace of silence Cedric simply leaned on the railing next to him, letting him think for as long as needed. 

“I’m not sure there’s much you could have done Cedric,” Harry said simply, “Last night...someone innocent got hurt. We did what could be done. I really appreciate the offer, I do, but I can’t even really tell you what happened now.” 

Cedric shrugged, “That’s okay Harry. I’m guessing last night was something big. I really didn’t expect you to share that with me, not yet. You have good friends beside you. But it might now hurt to have one more, someone older, more experienced.” 

“Uh, sure but I…” Harry trailed off. “I’m not really that great at making friendships.” 

“How about you write to me over the summer?” 

Harry flinched, and Cedric’s eyes furrowed into a frown, “Sure,” He said finally, “I stay with my...muggle relatives. I can’t always write, but I will when I can.” 

Cedric smiled, “Okay, that’s all I can ask Harry.” 

“Friends, then?” Harry extended a hand, and Cedric didn’t miss the hopeful look in the younger boy’s eye.

He nodded, grinning, suddenly feeling like he had achieved something momentous, “Friends.” 

* * *

_Cedric,_

_Sorry I haven’t written sooner. Hedwig, my owl, has been busy, and the first few times I tried to write to you she came back with the letter still attached to her leg. Not much has happened here really though, same old routine for me and my relatives. My cousin, Dudley, is struggling with his diet so the whole house is a bit tense I suppose. It’s not that bad though._

_How have you been? I’m not sure what you normally do over the breaks. Is this summer going good? Bad? I hope it’s going well._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry_

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_My father and I have been traveling for a majority of the past month and a half across the continent. I imagine Hedwig has difficulty reaching countries too far away. Sorry about that, wish I could have given you a heads up. We’re back now._

_I suppose I am glad to hear your summer doesn’t sound too horrible, though it sounds rather boring. Tension in any household can really set people on edge, I guess Muggles and Wizards are alike in that. I suppose all you can really do is encourage your cousin to get through it and avoid setting tempers aflame. I try to stay out of the way whenever my parents argue. Hope your relatives really aren’t that horrible, it doesn’t seem like you’re very close._

_If you don't mind me asking, why did the Dementors last term affect you so much? I don't mean to pry, but just know I'm here if you want to talk._

_The trip I just returned from was absolutely brilliant. Spain was incredible. My dad was mostly busy with work while we were there, I mostly had a lot of time to myself to explore. It’s more difficult than I thought to blend in with Muggles, I’m sure I could appreciate your advice on that._

_The beaches weren’t at all quite like ours, they were definitely warmer. Muggles do a funny thing called surfing, I tried it out of pure curiosity. Bit like flying, floating on a board in the waves. Difficult to describe, but it was fantastic._

_Anyways, the Quidditch World Cup is coming to England this year. I do hope you find some way to go, it is going to be incredible. The Bulgarian Seeker, Viktor Krum, is good enough to play even though he’s still in school. I reckon the Irish Chasers are a force to be reckoned with though. I’m going with my dad._

_Hopefully no trouble goes looking for you between now and term._

_Your friend,_

_Cedric_

* * *

_Dear Cedric,_

_Really, my relatives aren’t that bad, please don’t worry about them. They’re certainly better than they have been in the past, to be honest. I can’t say we’re close, but that’s alright, really. Still, not much happens here, which is fine. Uneventful means trouble hasn’t found me yet._

_Spain sounds incredible. I really want to travel one day, maybe after I graduate Hogwarts. I’d love to go places other than here, anywhere really. I haven’t seen that much of Britain to be honest either, just here, the Burrow, and Hogwarts. The beach seems interesting, I’ve never really been to the ocean. Might help if I learn how to swim properly before then I suppose._

_I see my parents death. I'm fine really, just hurts in the moment._

_I do have some good news at least; I will be going to the World Cup! The Weasley’ have tickets and invited me along, I just got permission from my relatives. I suppose I’ll see you there. I’ve never been to a professional game before, I can’t wait to see the Seekers in action._

_Your friend,_

_Harry_

_P.S. I’ll be at the Burrow for the rest of the Summer, if you want to keep writing_

* * *

Cedric frowned at Harry’s latest letter, absentmindedly giving Hedwig treats. He really didn’t write as often as Cedric was hoping, but he supposed he didn’t have the right to pry that much. He couldn’t help but feel he hadn’t really learned much of anything substantial about the younger boy that summer, Harry didn’t seem to talk about himself or his home much. He felt bad for asking about the Dementors then, but couldn't think of what else to ask and truly get to understand him. He wasn’t sure if it was curiosity or worry that led his thoughts to linger on the younger boy...

Sighing, he sat down to write his reply, wondering if there was possibly something more, something important, he was missing. A nagging worry seemed to twitch at the center of his soul, but he could not tell in what direction his fear pointed. Tension seemed to grow in all his thoughts of the future. Cedric didn’t know what to make of it.


	2. Secrets, Soulmarks, and Safety

**Chapter 2: Secrets, Soulmarks, and Safety**

Harry woke to a burning sensation in his scar. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling; that summer had been plagued with strange dreams and pain in his forehead. At least no one had died in this dream, from what he could remember. He could only be glad his dreams had led him to cry out yet, he was sure Vernon wouldn’t take kindly to being woken up early. What followed wouldn’t be pleasant. 

With a groan he sat up, his body immediately protesting. The pain wasn’t so bad by then, he supposed, with the first-hand experience he possessed he knew it could be worse. His back, if he could see it, was a tapestry of red welts, dried blood, and scabs. Now that they had scabbed over though he wasn’t overly concerned about them, it was last night that they had really hurt. Vernon would have surely done worse if he wasn’t so excited to have him out from under their roof. 

Harry shuddered, forcing himself to shove the memories aside. It wasn’t smart to dwell on these things; to survive he had to compartmentalize and move on. Focused on the future...on the Burrow...on the World Cup...on returning to Hogwarts, he could pack up his fears in neat boxes. Compartmentalization was a skill he fell into naturally as a kid, necessary to go from the Dursleys to school and then to Hogwarts. It was the only way to get through the years, minute by minute. 

If he didn’t, he was sure life would eventually break him. 

So he chose not to worry about it. His back was easy enough to hide, he had three years of experience from Hogwarts by this point. The visible bruises were hidden under layers of glamours, another thing he’d realized how to do accidentally as a kid. Vernon’s threats had been more than enough motivation to hide the truth from anyone. 

They still were. 

Part of him knew he could probably write Sirius about this too, but it wasn’t worth it. Dumbledore clearly wasn’t going to do anything about it, there simply wasn’t anywhere else for him to go. Sirius...Sirius would just make choices they all would later regret. From his correspondence with Remus he knew his godfather was still dealing heavily with the effects of Azkaban, and Harry had fought too hard to let his godfather get thrown back in. Harry needed him free, offering even as limited as support as he could offer like this. It was better than nothing. 

At least this summer Hedwig had more freedom. Harry looked over at the pile of letters filed on his desk with a smile. His friends' words were a balm, the eye of the storm of verbal insults that barraged him daily. 

_Cedric is worried._

Harry ignored the nagging voice that had followed him with Cedric’s letter. _First off,_ He reasoned as he gingerly pulled off his nightshirt to dress for the day, _You’re wrong. Why would Cedric even care?_ He went on to his pants, moving slowly to avoid tearing open the scabs, _Second, there is nothing to worry about. It’s not as bad as it was. I have it handled._ His socks, the ones from his uniform to avoid more of Dudley’s castoffs, required him to bring his legs to his chest to reach without straining. _Third, it’s none of his business, is it?_

The lie, that he saw just his parents death when the Dementors were near, came easy. Mentioning the truth, talking about the darkness of the cupboard and the pain of...that was far more difficult.

Thoughts of friendship with the older boy was an alluring idea, he had to admit, he refused to be hopeful it was a real possibility. He wasn’t sure why Cedric had extended the offer. A sense of obligation for the events of the first Quidditch match last year or being put up by friends as a joke both seemed like likely possibilities for motivation. Harry wasn’t sure why anyone, let alone Cedric Diggory, would _want_ to be friends with him. 

Thinking of Ron and Hermione, Harry smiled. 

_But I’m definitely glad they are._

Harry went about the routine of his day with a sense of strange normalcy, as if he wasn’t about to leave. Breakfast turned out fine, though he couldn’t really be sure without eating any of it. The absence of any complaints accompanied by blows implied it was satisfactory. He didn’t have the strength left to protest as Vernon manhandled him outside and didn’t offer any defense or protest against the verbal insults thrown at him. 

It was like he told Cedric: just the same old routine. 

As he went about the list of chores, _his last chores for the summer_ , he thought longingly of the food once hidden under the loose floorboard in his room. His stomach was a shrunken knot of tight achiness that refused to leave him, no matter how much copper-tasting water he drank from the garden hose. He’d run out of stored food just as Vernon decided to ban him from meals again. 

Harry hadn’t eaten anything in four days. 

Again, it was time to compartmentalize. He reminded himself he’d gone longer without and forced all thought of the gnawing pain in his stomach to vacate his mind. He worked through the beds of flowers methodically, losing himself in the rhythm of weeding. It was hot, and his back burned with pain, but he didn’t dare stop to take a break until he was finished. 

_Vernon does not take kindly to laziness._

Between weeding and lunch he packed. There was always a strange feeling in packing all his worldly possessions into a trunk, in realizing how little he had tying him down. The room really didn’t look that different at all in his absence. Every time he packed his room into the trunk he realized that. 

Outside of Hogwarts, he didn’t have a home. Private Drive couldn’t ever be that. 

Eventually the minutes ticked by into hours and they quickly found themselves passing the set hour for Harry’s departure. Uncle Vernon, perspiring in the suit he had on to intimidate the Weasleys, opened the front door, peered up and down the street, then rounded on Harry. 

“They’re late!” He snarled, shoving him back forcefully into the wall. 

Harry gasped slightly, gritting his teeth through the explosion of pain. “I know,” He said quietly, “Made the er, traffic is bad? Or something…” 

_Was I wrong to hope? Will this turn out to be nothing? Will I just be left here?_

_Probably._

Petunia turned up her nose disdainfully as the minutes crept by, “Perhaps they expect to be receiving an invitation to dinner if they are late, completely inconsiderate.” 

“Well they most decidedly will not be,” Vernon growled, “They can take the freak and leave. The sooner they get out of here with him the better.” 

Suddenly from behind the Dursleys boarded up fireplace, in front of which was an electric fire, came a variety of loud bangings, scrapings, and muffled curses. The Dursleys were staring at it in complete terror. Vernon turned on Harry with an expression of pure fury, and Harry was suddenly beyond grateful to be quickly leaving. 

* * *

Harry settled down on a sofa in the Weasley living room with a deep sigh, marvelling in the feeling of a full stomach. Tension left him with every minute at the Burrow, breathes he hadn’t realized he was holding all summer. This place was home more than Private Drive ever had been or would be. Next to him Hermione and Ron sat, Hermione burying her face in a book. 

_I didn’t even flinch when they hugged me,_ He reminded himself with a grin. _I’m safe here, and I know it._

Mrs. Weasley sat down across from them with a knitting project. Harry frowned, sure he must surely have been mistaken as a flag of something drew his eye. Her wrist had caught his attention, or rather, what was etched in black ink on to the skin of her wrist. 

“Mrs. Weasley,” He gestured to her arm, “Do you have a tattoo?” 

The thought of that, Mrs. Weasley having a tattoo, was almost funny enough to laugh out loud at. Of all the Weasley’s to have a tattoo, she was the one he expected to discourage it. 

“Hmm?” She gave him a strange look, “Are you talking about my soulmark dear? I suppose it is a sort of tattoo, though don’t let that give you any ideas,” Mrs. Weasley cast a withering glance at Ron and the twins. “I do not condone any tattooing until you are _out_ of Hogwarts.” 

Charlie, who had arrived less than an hour prior, chuckled from the kitchen, “Don’t be so hard on them mum. It’s not like it killed me when I got my first, and I hadn’t sat my N.E.W.Ts.” 

Charlie, on the other hand, seemed a perfectly reasonable Weasley to have several tattoos. 

Mrs. Weasley sighed, “It would be best for them to focus on their schoolwork, Charlie.” 

“Of course mum,” Charlie grinned, taking an open seat. 

Harry turned back to Mrs. Weasley, still puzzled at the foreign word, “Sorry, Mrs. Weasley, but what, exactly, is a soulmark? Is that some sort of...magical tattoo? No one’s mentioned it.”

She stared at him like he’d grown a second head, truly stunned for a moment. Harry turned and realized the other’s were looking at him similarly, even Hermione. 

“Uh...sorry?” 

She shook her head, breaking her surprised look, “No dear, that’s quite alright. It’s just... you… you really don’t know, do you?” 

“No.” 

Hermione closed her book, “Harry, haven’t you read anything about the wizarding world?” 

Harry shrugged, “Sure, but nothing about ‘soulmarks’ or whatever. So what are they?” 

“‘What are they?’” Ron repeated incredulously, “Only an ancient marker of the deepest magical bond known to Wizardkind. Blimey mate, wish you’d asked sooner.” 

“Oh be nice to him Ronald!” Hermione playfully whacked him with a throw pillow. 

“Soulmarks...mark soulmates dear,” Mrs. Weasley laced her fingers together contemplatively, looking away for a moment, “I have Arthur’s initials and he has my maiden initials, on our left wrists,” She held up her left hand to show him the mark, the letters AW surrounded by a small celtic knot, done in dark black ink. 

Harry stared, his mind whirling. “Er, they just like...appear?” 

Mrs. Weasley nodded, “Soulmarks appear when soulmates have reached a certain level of...depth in their relationship, when in a singular moment they are both ready...ready to die for each other, if necessary. Ours appeared…” She took a deep, bracing breath, “Arthur and I got ours during the First War, not a few months past our graduation. It forms with a deep magical bond.” 

“Not everyone finds their soulmate,” Hermione said softly, “And some soulmates never reach the point where the marks appear. It’s relative to each relationship what the threshold depth of the bond is for the mark to appear. No known enchantments can accurately reveal them prematurely. Although, many theorize before the marks are revealed both soulmates feel an instinctive need to protect each other. Hard to prove that though. A few people get multiple marks, though that’s really rare.” 

“Soulmarks, in and of themselves, are not a binding contract,” Charlie interjected. “Some people chose...or are forced to keep things platonic,” He held up his left wrist, covered by a bolt of red cloth, “I have one that appeared this summer, but until we decide what we want it to mean, it’s traditional to cover it with red cloth. A lot of people cover their soulmarks, it's a very private thing.”

“Cover them?” 

Charlie nodded, “Even the process of doing that is considered sacred, solemn. Other people aren’t supposed to be able to intrude on a soulmate relationship, pressure them in anyway. Some people consider it...unsightly for non-married soulmates to keep them uncovered, but that’s a bit old-fashioned.” He smiled a bit, looking down at his own covered wrist, “You tie the cloth over your...partner's mark and say the incantation _‘Testor ego amorem perpetuum._ ’ It’s...an intimate thing.” 

Suddenly realizing he might have been intruding, Harry turned to Mrs. Weasley, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Weasley, I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off, realizing she was smiling and shaking her head, but also softly crying. 

“That’s alright dear, you’re family to us,” She sniffed, looking off into the distant fire, “The memory of when...our marks appeared isn’t exactly pleasant. Bit traumatic actually, had to be to get through Arthur’s thick skull I suppose. I’m just horrified to realize no one bothered to explain this to you before, and glad we told you before any marks could potentially appear on you.” 

Harry blinked, realizing he hadn’t considered that possibility, “They don’t only appear on adult, married couples?”

Ron shook his head, chuckling, “Blimey mate, haven’t you noticed the red band before? There’s at least a good handful of bonds at Hogwarts, and a couple professors have marks. Mostly older students, but a few fourth years too. It doesn’t really happen before age thirteen that often.” 

Charlie smiled, “Me and my soulmate are coworkers. He wants to tell his family before we start any relationship. I suppose we are adults, but we’re certainly not married. Like Ron said, lots of people find out even younger.” 

Mrs. Weasley beamed at her son, “And you know, Charlie, that I will support you both unquestionably.” 

“I know mum.” 

Harry blinked, leaning back into the sofa and processing the new information. The implications of this were startling, vast, and wholly unexpected, “Um, okay. Whoa. Didn’t expect...all that. Thanks for telling me.” 

“Best not to worry about it,” Mrs. Weasley smiled softly as she returned to her knitting, “You can never predict when these things will happen, it’s up to the winds of fate really. All we can do is live and keep living in the present, the future does not belong to us.” 

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_I’m happy to hear you’ll be away from your relatives for the rest of summer, it does seem like you could do with a break from them. They might not be that bad but they don’t seem terribly interesting, the Weasleys will keep you entertained I hope. Maybe you will be too busy for trouble to find you._

_I cannot believe you have never truly visited the ocean! This is a crime against Wizardkind. Harry, you simply must come visit me sometime when my family stays at our beach house. And at some point someone should help you learn how to swim properly, it’s dangerous to one day find you need that skill and not have it._

_I didn't mention it in person, but I'm sorry for mentioning the Dementors._

_I will see you before we get to the cup, as it turns out. My father and I are catching the same portkey as the Weasleys, our home is not so far from the burrow in fact. Perhaps after all this I could come to play a few rounds of Quidditch with you and them._

_See you soon, your friend,_

_Cedric_

* * *

“Off you lot go!” Mrs. Weasley said as they filed out the door at dawn, smiling widely, “Have fun dears.” 

Calling their goodbyes the group began to make their way to the portkey in the light of the pale dawn. The walk was long, but Harry was finding the long hours of chores left him with a rather impressive endurance. With a good night of rest and real food his body felt better than it had in ages, and he could almost ignore the pain of his back. As long as none of the cuts were infected, Harry was positive he was going to be fine. 

“Hello, Weasleys!” Harry turned in surprise to see Cedric and his father walking out to meet them on the hill top. “Cutting it rather short aren’t we? Portkey’s set to leave soon.” 

“Sorry Amos,” Mr. Weasley grinned, “Some of us got a bit of a late start.” 

“Hello, Harry,” Cedric smiled and waved a hand to Harry. 

A sudden wave of anxiety struck Harry in the center of his chest. _What does he expect our friendship to be? Do I like our friendship? Yeah, I do. Do we have a friendship? What if he finds out and breaks it off entirely? What if he finds out I like guys? I thought I was over that...apparently not? He’ll be disgusted! Oh, dear..._

“Uh, hi Cedric,” He managed a smile, “Excited?” 

_Obviously. Smooth, Potter._

“You bet,” Cedric nodded. He gestured to the boot they had gathered around, “First time portkeying?” 

Harry nodded, suddenly a bit nervous about their transportation, “What’s it like?” 

“Bit rough at first, best grab tight.” 

“Ah, Harry Potter!” Amos Diggory walked over to their conversation enthusiastically, offering a hand for Harry to shake, “Ced’s told us lots about you! All good, not to worry. Quite impressive, Boy-Who-Lived and all that. Course, Ced beat you in Quidditch! That’ll be a story to tell the grandkids.” 

Harry felt himself pale, unsure of how to react, “Uh...I guess…” 

Cedric saved him, “Dad, Harry’s more than you read about in the papers. And I’m not sure who would come out in a _fair_ match between the two of us.” 

Amos gave his son a friendly clap on the shoulder, “Don’t discount what you have accomplished son! You’ve got to be more than a bit of fame to make it in this world.” 

“Really…” 

“Quick!” Mr. Weasley gestured widely at his watch, “We’ve got to be going now, everyone grab hold!” 

Everyone grabbed the boot, and within moments the portkey was off. He felt a violent yank from behind his navel, pulling him along. Harry felt certain at any moment he would vomit, the world was spinning faster than he could process. It became a whirlwind of color, nothing but a blur. 

Breathing, suddenly, was impossible. 

“Let go!” 

_Let go?_

Harry wasn’t sure who had shouted the command but he wasn’t keen to argue. They landed with a crash on the ground, and he was suddenly wishing he had asked for more guidance on landing. 

He had landed directly on his back, on a rock that dug painfull into the wounds. Pain erupted from them with a physical, overpowering force. He lay still for a moment, gasping for breath and struggling to see past the flashes of white that blinded his vision. 

“Arlight there Harry?” he focused on the voice in front of him and found Cedric, holding out his hand to help him up. 

Harry took it, gritting his teeth to avoid wincing, “Yeah, thanks Cedric.” 

Cedric turned to where his father was gesturing for him to follow, “Well, I suppose this is where we part ways for now Harry.” 

He nodded, “I suppose it is.” 

“See you around Harry.” 

“Uh, Cedric,” Harry found himself speaking, prompting the older Hufflepuff to stop and turn, without realizing he had decided to speak, “Thanks, for you know, writing to me this summer. It was nice.” 

Cedric practically beamed, “I’m glad Harry, anytime. See you later.” 

“See you.” 

* * *

Harry woke later to the sound of screaming, screaming that was not his own. The smell of smoke hit him a second later, accompanied by muffled curses. He sensed the danger in a second, the familiar feeling of adrenaline quickly followed. 

“Get back to the portkey!” Mr. Weasley bellowed, “Stay together, and get back to the portkey!” He pulled out his wand, rushing towards the commotion to help the ministry regain control. 

They excited the tent and were met with fire. People were running and screaming about, driven by terror that had reached levels of sheer hysteria. A group of wizards in long black robes and white skull masks were gleefully torturing the Muggle campground owners. Harry stared for a moment in horror as a little girl spun like a top. 

“That’s sick,” Hermione said softly. 

“This way!” One of the older Weasleys grabbed hold of them, pulling them away from the chaos. “Come on!” 

They took off running, winding their way through the crowd with an adrenaline-induced desperation. In the darkness and blinding light of the fire he wasn’t sure he had any idea where to go, he could only trust the people he was following. Harry felt a tight pressure around his hand, something he instinctively felt the need to hold tight too. 

Suddenly a screaming, tall wizard running the other direction crashed into him, tearing him apart from his friends. Belatedly he realized he’d been clutching Hermione's hand. Whoever had run into him didn’t stop, just kept moving. 

And he was left alone. 

Cursing under his breath Harry took off again, figuring it was better to be a moving target if someone attacked him. He found himself in an open, darker, row of tents. He had lost the main flow of people, and the Weasleys. 

“Harry?!” A familiar voice suddenly caught his attention, prompting him to spin around to find the source. Cedric came running at him, clutched his shoulders almost painfully tight, and it was an immense relief to Harry to see him. 

“Cedric…” 

Cedric grinned slightly, “Trouble found you Harry.” He cast a look over his shoulder and cursed, his face growing serious, “We’ve got to move Harry. Come on!” 

They never got the chance. In the distance a shadowy figure, a silhouette in the light of the flames, held a wand aloft and shouted a curse. A figure of green smoke and light appeared in the clouds, a snake crawling out of the mouth of a skull. 

“Harry…” Cedric abruptly stopped. In the distance the masked figures quickly disappeared. 

“Cedric, what is that thing?” Cedric never got the chance to answer. “Down!” 

Harry pushed his shout to a near scream as they were suddenly surrounded by red-robed wizards. Both of them hit the ground as light collided over their heads. 

“That’s my son!” Amos shouted, breaking away from the group. “Stop!” 

“Harry!” Mr. Weasley rushed forward a second later. 

“No one else could have done it! They were the only ones.” 

“It certainly wasn’t my son!” Amos defended, angrily staring down Crouch. 

“And it certainly wasn’t Harry!” Cedric added before Mr. Weasley got the chance to speak. He stepped out from his father’s protection, stepping in front of Harry, “Why, in Merlin’s name, would _Harry Potter_ cast the dark mark?” 

_Friends defend each other,_ A quiet voice, warmed by Cedric’s word, insisted. 

_I don’t deserve Cedric._

Still, Harry couldn’t deny the warmth that spread in his stomach with Cedric standing protectively in front of him. Something deep within him, within his very soul, felt...safe in Cedric’s presence. 


	3. The Hogwarts Champions

**Chapter 3: The Hogwarts Champions**

Harry didn’t see Cedric the rest of that summer, receiving a short letter that his family wished him to stay at home for the remainder of the break. He told himself he had no right to feel disappointed, compartmentalized his feelings, and moved on with life. It was easy enough to do that at the Burrow; between cramming the last of his summer homework and playing Quidditch, Harry hardly had a spare moment. 

Term was beginning before he knew it, and still Harry found he spoke barely more than a few words in passing to Cedric. The opportunity, and need, for a longer conversation did not present itself until after the unveiling of the Goblet of Fire.

Harry saw the look in Cedric’s eyes when the Triwizard Tournament was announced. He knew instantly the older boy would be putting his name in, and Harry knew he had to convince him not to. Even if Cedric wouldn’t listen, he had to try. Professor Dumbledore’s words, warning of the risk the tournament carried, sent waves of anxiety through Harry. Cedric was going to willingly put his life in danger. Cedric was going to take the risk for the  _ glory _ . 

And the thought of that made him physically ill. 

“Cedric!” Harry shouted, running to catch up to Cedric and his group of friends. Cedric waved them on, turning to Harry. 

“Harry, you alright?”   
He nodded, catching his breath, “Had to talk to you.” 

“Something happened?” Cedric smiled, “Or did you just come to wish me luck?” 

“No,” Harry straightened, “Something is  _ going  _ to happen. If you put your name in the Goblet, I mean. You’ll...you’ll be taking a huge risk.” 

Cedric grimaced, walking off to an alcove off the side of the main corridor with him, “Look, Harry, I know. I heard the Headmaster’s speech, same as you. But I’m going to put my name in. I have to. I’ve made my decision.” 

“It isn’t worth it Cedric,” Harry said softly. 

“Yeah, Harry, it is.” 

“No, it’s not!” Harry gestured in the direction of the Great Hall, “If you put your name in that you’ll be signing up to risk your life. You don’t...you don’t know what that’s like Cedric. No Cup or award or glory is worth your life.” 

Cedric scowled, “And I suppose you do, Mr. Fourteen Year Old?!” 

“Hey! As a matter of fact--” 

_ As a matter of fact, I do.  _

“No, Harry,” Cedric interrupted. “Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean you get to order me around. No one gets to do that. I’m of age, it’s my choice. There is a reason there’s an age-restriction Harry, this isn’t just a game.” 

“Yeah, it is,” Harry clenched his hands into fists. “Cedric it is just a game. That isn’t worth your life. Lives matter more than some stupid competition.” 

“It’s my decision Harry.” 

“Yeah, it is,” Harry agreed. “But it is the rest of us that have to live with the consequences Cedric. You're not the one who has to go to your funeral.” 

“Spare me the melodrama. It’s  _ my  _ decision, Harry,” Cedric almost spat the words out as he walked away. “Just because I’m a Hufflepuff doesn’t mean I need some Gryffindor hero to protect me. I’m not weak. I know what I want. Leave this to the adults, Harry.” 

Harry felt the dred slide into the center of his heart and stay there, unmoving. Then came the wave of hurt, a stinging pain that somehow cut deeper than any of Vernon’s barbs. Cedric didn’t listen to him, didn’t think of him anymore than a child. 

Heaving a sigh, further protests dying on his lips, he watched Cedric storm away from him. 

_ For the best probably. He doesn’t need me ruining his life.  _

“Good luck,” He could barely whisper it, his breath catching in his lungs.

Cedric didn’t hear him. 

* * *

When Cedric’s name came out of the Goblet, Harry had searched deep within himself to find the energy to cheer. Part of him wanted to walk over to his friend, scream a few choice words at him, and slap him for not listening. But he couldn’t, and he knew Cedric wasn’t going to anyways, so he didn’t. All he could do was numbly watch as Cedric left the Great Hall; nothing could stop the fear blossoming in his chest. He wasn’t sure what was louder: the thunderous applause, or the beating of his own heart, which pounded an increasingly frantic tempo into his temples. 

Dumbledore was talking, cutting through the noise. Harry found himself focusing on that to ground himself, “By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real--”

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and the cause of his distraction was apparent to everyone. The fire in the Goblet had turned red once again, sparkings flying violently out from it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and born upon it was a fourth piece of parchment. 

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore snatched it out of the air in a long hand. He studied it for a tense moment, as if judging whether the piece of parchment in his hands was real. Silence reigned in the hall, and all eyes trained onto the Headmaster. When he looked up his eyes scanned the room and fell upon Harry, and Harry knew with certainty the name upon the slip before it was called. 

_ No. Please. Why? _

“Harry Potter.” 

He turned to the faces of his friends, Hermione and Ron stared at him blankly., “I didn’t…” Words, protests, cries, shouts, screams all died in this throat. “You know I didn’t.” 

Neither of them replied. 

At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall. 

“Harry Potter!” He called again, this time more forcefully. 

Harry stood up, trod on this hem of robes, stumbled, righted himself, and stepped forward. Walking down the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables seemed to take an eternity and a half. He could feel the pressure of every set of eyes staring at him, seemingly illuminating him with a spotlight of attention. He finally reached the front and then the eyes of his teachers were upon him too. 

After what seemed like seconds that lasted centuries, Harry found himself walking through the door and standing in a small room lined with portraits. He stared at the three champions and they back at him, and somehow the weight of their eyes was worst of all. 

Ludo Bagman was pestering him, and Dumbledore was questioning him, and all of that felt so ridiculously far away suddenly. All he could do was repeat the truth, though his voice shook as he spoke every time. Whether or not any of them actually believed him, Harry would never be sure. 

Fluer called him a little boy, Cedric’s words echoed back at him. 

_ Leave this to the adults.  _

_ I wish to bloody hell I could.  _

When it was all said and done, he realized bitterly he had no choice. He had never had a choice. All of the arguing was in vain. Dumbledore told him, in his ancient yet soft and kind and firm voice he had to compete, and Harry felt the crushing reality overtake him. 

He knew, memories of bleeding out in the Chamber of Secrets, of lying surrounded by Dementors, of facing Voldemort, what it was like to risk his life. To save someone else? He would make the choice to risk it in a heartbeat. But now, for the sake of a stupid Tournament? He wasn’t being given a choice at all. And he was terrified. 

For both him and Cedric. 

Seconds after he was released Harry took off at a run, a desperate sprint down the dark halls, determined to escape it all. The thought of living with the weight of all those stares was suddenly crushing, too heavy to bear and carry. 

His blood roared in his ears and he could almost feel the panic descend on him like a physical force. Oxygen became as much a cage as a source of sustenance, his breath seizing in his lungs like his chest was filled with stone. His back screamed in protest as he moved, but the physical pain was at least a distraction he could try to focus on. 

He didn’t do it. But that didn’t seem to matter to anyone. 

It felt, suddenly, like he  _ was  _ nothing but a small child. 

Harry was stuck, in that moment, with a memory. He couldn’t have been older than six, staring up at the wrath of his uncle, crying he didn’t break the lamp. But Dudley said he did, and the truth didn’t seem to matter to anyone then either. A younger him cowered, trembling, as a black leather belt descended on him. 

A fourteen year old Harry ran. 

There was no compartmentalizing  _ this  _ fear. 

“Harry!” 

The voice, the sound of footsteps following him, only prompted Harry to run faster. He couldn’t bear the thought of another living person looking at him then, couldn’t bear the weight of the shame. He could feel himself cracking, he would swear, something in his soul cracking apart. 

“Harry!” 

Strong arms wrapped around him then, inescapable. Harry flinched instinctively, his back hurting with a dull throb at the touch, but it was the physical pain that he hardly noticed. He struggled for a moment, then, realizing there was no point, went still. He waited, realizing he expected these arms to hurt him too. 

But they didn’t. 

And Harry, suddenly at the end of his adrenaline, felt himself collapse, felt himself melt into that embrace. Suddenly he was swamped with an overwhelming feeling of safety. Both him and the person holding him fell to the ground as Harry’s knees buckled. 

“I didn’t,” He cried out, knowing it was useless.   
“I know.” 

The solid sincerity of the voice surprised Harry, pulled him abruptly out of the cycles of panic in his mind. He turned, staring blankly with surprise into the face of Cedric Diggory, the friend he was most sure had abandoned him. Cedric was looking at him with a painful grimace, but the gaze of his eyes was wholly earnest. 

“Cedric?” Harry pulled away from the now loose arms, shoving his back instinctually against the wall. The pain didn’t matter anymore, he needed to know he wouldn’t be snuck up on. 

“Harry, you're shaking,” Cedric said quietly, sitting down next to him. 

And Harry was shaking, trembling with anxiety and tension. He stared blankly at his own hands for a moment, still struggling to breath regularly. He flinched from the gentle hand on his shoulder, but it didn’t move away, and he didn’t shove it off. 

“I didn’t put my name in the bloody Goblet,” Harry said quietly, leaning his head back in defeat. 

“I know,” Cedric repeated. “And a lot of people won’t believe you. But I do.” 

Harry stared at the older boy like he’d grown a third head, “Why?” He asked flatly. 

Cedric sighed, looking away from Harry’s gaze, “I was really angry earlier, ya’know?” 

He snorted, his laughter catching on his tears, “No Cedric, it wasn’t at all obvious.” 

“Oh shut up, I’m trying to be nice,” Cedric smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes before it fell. “I thought you were being immature Harry, earlier. I guess I just didn’t want to listen to the truth, because the truth is...scary. I’m sorry, I was wrong. I wish I listened, I wish I hadn't put my name in the Goblet.” 

Harry refused to meet Cedric’s gaze for a moment, “Why?” He repeated finally. 

“When you were chosen, Harry,” Cedric said slowly. “It...terrified me. Sure, somewhere, I’m afraid for myself. But I’m terrified for you. When your name came out of the Goblet...I guess I realized what you were feeling earlier. I’m terrified you’re not going to survive this. You were right. This is just some stupid competition its not worth...either of our lives.” 

Harry turned slowly to the honest, kind gaze of his older friend, and then he felt another barrier in him collapse. He leaned into the hand resting on his shoulder and didn’t protest as Cedric pulled him into a hug. The pain of his back was so distant it was rendered inconsequential. He felt safe. 

For a long moment the corridor was devoid of their voices, only filled with the sound of quiet breathing. 

Finally, Harry found the strength to give a weak laugh, “Fine pair we make, Cedric. Champions of Hogwarts, folks.” 

“Well, one of them is pretty great.” 

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “You.” 

Cedric shook his head, “No Harry, you.” He looked away then, staring out at the walls as if contemplating something difficult. “Harry…” He began, biting his lip slightly. “I’m really sorry I asked about the Dementors. No one should...no one should see what you’ve had to. But for...for what’s worth, I think they’d be proud of you.” 

Harry looked away, shame roiling in his stomach, “No. They wouldn’t.” 

“Yeah, they would,” Cedric gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “And for what it’s worth, I am too.” 

Cedric helped to his feet then, and they began the long walk back through the corridors of Hogwarts. 

“Why?” Harry asked finally. 

“Because you’re the only one who didn’t enter this like we did, for attention,” Cedric said finally. “And for what it’s worth, Harry, you’re strong enough to survive this.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

Cedric stopped and forced him to make eye contact, clutching his shoulders tightly, “Yes I do, Harry. I have to know that because if I don’t I don’t know what  _ I’m  _ going to do. I refuse to let this kill us, either of us. Where is that bloody Gryffindor courage when we need it.” 

And when Harry went to sleep, as alone as Ron’s glare made him feel, he didn’t feel like the loneliness would crush him. Because they were going to survive this, and he repeated that like a mantra, let the feeling of safety that accompanied it surround him like a cocoon. 

* * *

Harry wasn’t sure how he would have faced the next few days without the ability to compartmentalize. At Hermione’s insistence he wrote to Sirius, knowing there was nothing his godfather could really do. The thought of him  _ trying  _ to help and getting caught made Harry’s insides swim with nauseous guilt. 

The worst feeling was facing Ron, who, like most people, refused to believe him or even listen to the truth. But he wasn’t alone in his sentiments; when monday came around Harry found there was little hope of hiding from the rest of the school. Just like the Gyrffindors, they thought he entered his name. Unlike the Gryffinors, however, most of them were not terribly impressed.The Hufflepuffs had grown remarkably cold, bitter that he had taken attention away from their house. 

And every time he passed Cedric in the hallway he couldn’t quite suppress the pangs of insecurity. Cedric was every part the champion; for all outwards appearances, he was a pillar of confidence and optimism. He was handsome, tall, nice...handsome...for all intents and purposes--perfect. He was never alone either, always surrounded by friends and fans. Harry just couldn’t compare. 

What was started by the Slytherins became an instant hit. The badges, which flashed from saying  _ SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY _ to  _ POTTER STINKS _ were worn by almost everyone outside of Gryffindor. Malfoy found them to be the absolute peak of comedy. Harry did his best to ignore it and move on, but it was becoming incredibly difficult.

When Colin Creevey showed up in the middle of Potions for Harry he found he would quite become part of the wall. The constant attention was dizzying at best and sickening at worst. Ron wouldn’t even look at him as he left the room. 

He ended up in a fairly small classroom. Viktor Krum was standing modlily in the corner and deliberately not talking to anyone. Cedric and Fleur were in a conversation and Fleur looked decidedly more happy than Harry had seen her so far. As he walked in Cedric immediately broke off and walked over to him. 

“Hey Harry,” Cedric said quietly, “Listen, I’m really sorry. I’ve been meaning to get a chance to talk to you but I’m hardly ever alone and I never seem to find the moment. I’ve asked them to stop wearing the badges, but no one will listen to me.” 

Harry sighed, “It’s fine Cedric.” He mumbled. 

_ You’re the real champion anyways, the badges are right. I do stink... _

“It’s really not,” Cedric insisted. “If you need someone to talk to, come find me. Or have Hedwig send me a letter. Please, Harry.” 

“Okay,” Harry answered with a noncommittal shrug, knowing he wasn’t likely to take Cedric’s offer and burden him with something unnecessary. 

Bagman suddenly spotted Harry, got up quickly, and bounded forward to them, breaking off any further conversation. Before Harry realized quite what was happening Rita Skeeter had a hold of his shoulder and was dragging him away. 

“We don’t want to be in there with all that noise,” she waved towards the classroom. “Let’s see...ah, yes, this is nice and cozy.” 

It was a broom cupboard.

Harry stared at her, fighting back the waves of claustrophobia pressing in on him. Skeeter twisted his words at every opportunity, in between just making stuff up, and with the growing anxiety in his chest it was difficult to watch what he said. 

“I have NOT got tears in my eyes!” Harry finally snapped, knowing in that moment he really  _ would  _ like to go crawl up in a corner and cry. 

Before Skeeter could answer the door to the closet was abruptly pulled open. Harry stared, blinking in the light. Cedric stood there, looking down at Skeeter with an expression of contempt. 

“Pardon the intrusion,” Cedric growled. “Ms. Skeeter, if you could please release Mr. Potter, Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Ollivander have just arrived.” 

“Very well,” The quill disappeared with Skeeter. 

Cedric caught Harry by the shoulder before he could slip away, “You alright Harry? Look a bit shaken there. She’s a hag of a witch.” 

“I’m fine, Cedric.” Harry replied, shrugging the older boy off. 

Harry didn’t meet his eyes after that, not during the wand ceremony or the pictures. He could only hope he wasn’t scowling in all the pictures, that wouldn’t exactly help people’s impression of him. 

* * *

The thought of talking face-to-face with Sirius became the only thing to sustain him for the better part of a fortnight. It was the only bright spot on the dark horizon. Now that the novelty of Harry being champion had begun to wear off he felt the fear truly begin to sink back in. It settled around him like it had a physical presence, haunting him every second of every minute of every day. 

Harry refused to talk to Ron unless Ron admitted the truth, Hermione was incredibly annoyed with his stubbornness and he couldn’t find the energy to really care. He ended up mostly ignoring the  _ Daily Prophet _ ; the feeling of embarrassment didn’t hold much of a candle to fear. 

And of course it had to be  _ dragons  _ of all things. 

As the first task drew nearer Harry began to pay more attention to the other champions, wondering if he was alone in his nerves. Fluer seemed to be determined to study her way out of any problem. Krum appeared oblivious to the competition, hiding whatever anxiety he felt behind a mask of confidence. Cedric appeared extremely relaxed, though Harry began to suspect he was more worried than his fans thought he ought to be. Seeing Cedric one day in the courtyard, Harry began to curse under his breath; Cedric didn’t yet know what the other three champions did. 

_ He’s going to have to face dragons and he doesn’t even know yet! Some friend I am.  _

“Cedric!” 

Cedric turned abruptly, the usual swarm of people around him sniggering as Harry approached. 

“Hey, Harry,” He shot a glare at several Hufflepuffs calling out taunts. 

“Can I have a word?” Harry asked impatiently. 

“Yeah, sure, definitely,” Cedric waved off his friends, following Harry into the corridors. 

“You stink!” 

Cedric rounded on them, snapping, “Oh shut up already! Leave him alone.” 

Harry blinked, startled as Cedric turned back to him, “Uh, thanks.” 

“No problem,” He sighed. “I’m sorry they won’t listen to me.” 

“That’s alright, uh, you should know…” Harry trailed off. “Dragons.” 

“Come again?” 

“The first task. It’s dragons.” 

Cedric started blankly at him for several moments, “You’re serious?” 

He nodded, “Yeah. They’ve got one for each of us.” 

“And the other’s, they know?” 

“Karkaroff and Madame Maxime were both there, I’m sure they’ve been told.” 

“How did you…” 

“Long story.” Harry said, turning to leave. 

“Harry, wait,” Cedric interjected before he got a chance. “What are you going to do?” 

Harry threw his arms up in frustration, “I don’t bloody know Cedric! I can’t fight a dragon, I don’t know how.” 

Steady hands rested on his shoulders then, “Harry, none of us know how to fight a dragon.” 

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” 

Cedric chuckled slightly, “No, I suppose it’s not really. But we’ve each got to come up with a strategy, something we  _ do _ know how to do. We’ve got to play to our strengths.” 

Harry stared at him for a moment, “I don’t have strengths Cedric. I’m...Harry. Just Harry.” 

“Well, Just Harry, Mr. Youngest Seeker In A Century, I beg to differ.” 

“What are you on about?” 

“Flying, Harry,” Cedric answered, “You’re more than a fair flyer, you’re incredible. I’ve seen you in Quidditch. Reckon if you were a faster, moving target it would be at least a bit more difficult for the dragon to set you on fire.” 

Harry stared at him blankly for a moment, pieces of idea moving at the back of his head, “I need my broom though.” 

“You’ve got your wand, Harry,” Cedric grinned, holding up his own as he walked away, “You can get what you need. Have Granger teach you the Summoning Charm.”

“Right,” Harry turned to leave, hesitating momentarily, “Thanks, Cedric.” 

Cedric waved, “Not a problem, Harry. I should be thanking you. So, er, thank you.” 


	4. Perspective

**Chapter 4: Perspective**

Cedric woke up on the day of the first task more nervous than he could remember ever being. The day passed in a blur, people’s encouragement melding together into a haze of good luck and well-wishes. He couldn’t help but look over at Harry at breakfast, not eating much of anything, sitting with only Granger for company. Part of him wanted to go over and offer his support, but the words died in his throat before he could even articulate them. 

And before he knew it he was stepping through the doors of the tent to face a dragon. He turned, hesitating, to look over at Harry. He was dressed in similar fire-resistant robes to Cedric, emblazoned on the front with the Hogwarts crest and the name  _ Potter  _ across the back, distinguished by the deep crimson color. Cedric noticed in that moment, more than he had before, Harry’s younger age. He looked so small, small even for fourteen. 

“Thank you,” Cedric managed to whisper. 

Harry nodded, not meeting his gaze, “Good luck.” 

Cedric wasn’t sure exactly why he hadn’t gone with the same tactic he had suggested to Harry, although part of him reasoned he probably wasn’t as good of a flier anyways. It would be difficult to keep a head of a dragon without a Firebolt and Harry’s skill. 

To distract the Swedish-Short-Snout he transfigured a boulder into a dog. It was partially successful, the dragon took the bait and Cedric rushed for the Golden Egg. Halfway through it returned it’s attention to Cedric, and burned his face. Gritting his teeth through the pain he managed to retrieve the egg and pass the task, though he suspected he wouldn’t be receiving as many points due to his injury. 

Madam Pompfrey ushered him over to the medical tent, muttering to herself about the stupidity of setting students against dragons. He couldn’t even complain about the thick orange paste covering the side of his face, his burns immediately felt soothed. 

Cedric himself sitting up on his bed, his ears trained on the sounds from the arena. It was somewhat difficult to tell what was going on from sound alone, though Fleur and Krum both ultimately succeeded. He found his thoughts wandering to Harry, and immediately felt sorry for the younger boy. 

As difficult as it was to sit through for him, Harry had to sit through it and wait the longest to face his dragon. Cedric could only hope his anxiety wasn’t getting the better of him, he needed to be able to go into the ring with a clear head. 

_ Come on, Harry.  _ He grimaced as the Gryffindor’s name was finally called.  _ Focus. You’ve got this.  _

And then, wishing he could tell him in person, Cedric thought with every fiber of his being in Harry’s direction, as if he could  _ will  _ the task to go well.  _ Good luck.  _

As difficult as it had been to listen to Fleur’s and Krum’s round, listening to Harry’s was practically agonizing. He flinched every time the dragon roared, every time someone in the crowd screamed, every time he thought something could have possibly gone wrong. Bagman’s commentary, rather vague and dramatic, didn’t help much at all. Visions of the worst plagued his mind every time he closed his eyes, and the thought Harry might have been hurt made him...almost physically ill. 

From the sound of it, however, Harry was holding his own against the Horntail. Cedric tried to be confident in the younger boy’s abilities, tried to supply his brain with memories of watching Harry play Quidditch to convince himself again and again about Harry’s capability on a broom, but it didn’t put him much at ease. Even the best fliers made mistakes, sometimes fatal mistakes, even in games of Quidditch. 

And Harry was facing a Hungarian Horntail. 

Minutes seemed to last hours, time stretching on and on. Finally it ended in cacophonous applause and Cedric felt a wave of relief overtake him.

_ Thank Merlin.  _

Harry entered the tent, grinning from ear to ear. A swarm of people seemed to follow him, and Cedric felt himself swept up by his friends and family. He managed to catch Harry’s gaze at one point though, sharing a grin as Pompfrey healed the gash torn across Harry’s arm. 

* * *

With the first task in the past Cedric found his attention turned to the Yule Ball. After facing a dragon, asking Cho was practically easy. He found himself grinning from ear to ear as he practically bounced back into the Hufflepuff dorm, gaily announcing her positive answer. The little knot of warm happiness seemed to practically glow cheerfully in his chest. 

It was nice, Cedric decided firmly, to be able to like both guys and girls. He could honestly spend time with Cho, honestly be happy in her presence, and not have to force himself into the relationship for the sake of appearances. Somehow he didn’t think it would be good if Skeeter caught wind of the truth. 

At lunch, however, he found himself glancing over at Harry, who was staring dejectedly at the food he pushed around on his plate. Cedric had noticed the younger boy didn’t eat much in the days leading up to the first task, he figured it was nerves. But his mood seemed to, if it was possible, have worsened. 

_ At least Weasley pulled his head out of his arse,  _ Cedric though, looking over at the red head next to Harry.  _ Wonder what’s wrong now?  _

Stupid question really, Cedric finally realized. Harry was fourteen, caught up in the excitement of an international tournament, dealing with the gossip of the entire school, and on top of that there was the drama of a school dance to handle. He chuckled a bit to himself, realizing that must be it. 

_ Oh Fourth Years,  _ He thought to himself, turning back to laugh at a friend’s joke.  _ Always the end of the world when you’re younger.  _

* * *

Cedric looked at himself in the mirror, proud of his appearance. His flowing black dress robes, accented by a hint of Hufflepuff yellow, looked good on his tall figure. He had to admit, he usually looked good, and tonight was no exception. 

He spent the week leading up to Christmas working through his homework, of which there was a lot for Sixth Years, and now he was excited to finally relax and enjoy the night. After getting through the crazy fall, he rather thought he deserved it. 

Cho looked no less stunning, draped in a dress of shimmering silver that highlighted all her natural beauty. Cedric took her hand in his and kissed it gallantly, earning himself a rather adorable giggle. It wasn’t at all difficult to find compliments for her as they walked to the entrance of the great hall. They milled about for a few minutes, chatting with their friends. 

Harry came along eventually with one of the Patil twins, looking quite handsome in his formal robes. Even his hair, usually ridiculously messy, was somewhat tamed for the event. Cedric struggled for a moment, wanting to offer his friend a compliment, but found the words ultimately dying in his throat. 

Then Professor’s McGonagall’s voice called, “Champions over here, please!” 

Waving goodbye to their friends, Cedric and Cho lined up with the other champions behind Professor McGonagall, who was wearing robes of crimson tartan. Cedric tried several times to talk to Harry, but the younger boy refused to do so much as meet his eyes. Then Harry turned, and Cedric found himself following his gaze to see Granger on Krum’s arm. 

_ Well,  _ he thought with a chuckle.  _ That’s probably what Harry was so upset about.  _

Cedric happily danced with Cho, sweeping her off her feet as they led the waltz. She was a good dance partner, easily following his lead. Years of dancing lessons from his grandmother, the Diggory Matriarch, really paid off in times like these. 

Sitting down at the table with the other champions and their dates, Cedric dug into his food happily, making pleasant conversation with Cho. The other champions focused on their dates, Viktor Krum sending Hermione into a fit of giggles as he tried to pronounce her name. Harry seemed engaged in conversation, still not paying any attention to Cedric. He couldn’t find the energy to be annoyed though, he was overcome with a giddy happiness as he spent time with Cho. 

When all the food had been consumed and the Weird Sisters took to the stage, Cedric again pulled Cho to her feet to dance. Several songs later he graciously allowed another Hufflepuff to dance with Cho, breaking off to grab them some punch. Harry and Ron seemed to be engaged in a rather vocal argument, but Cedric made a firm decision that it was none of his business, and promptly returned to Cho. 

Later that night he caught sight of Harry and Weasley leaving the dance and made a quick decision, surprising himself somewhat. Leaving Cho waiting for him in the entrance hall he took off after Harry at a sprint. 

“Hey--Harry!”

“Yeah?” Harry said, turning coldly as Cedric ran up the stairs. 

_ Oh dear. What did I do?  _

Cedric hesitated, glancing over at the red head, who shrugged, looking rather cross, and simply continued to climb the stairs. 

“Listen…” 

_ Harry needs to know. How do I tell him? Do I just tell him? Is that fair?  _

“What do you want Cedric?” 

“The Egg,” Cedric said finally, “You figured it out yet?” 

Harry scowled at him, surprising Cedric, who was not accustomed to seeing the younger boy actually angry at anyone, “Yeah,” Harry snapped. “As a matter of fact, Cedric, I have. Do you have something actually important or did you just want my help?” 

“Wait, no,” Cedric grimaced, realizing this was all coming out wrong, “I was trying to help you, Harry.” 

“Thanks,” Harry growled, “But I’m fine.”

And Cedric was left stunned silent as Harry marched away. 

* * *

The rest of the holidays passed with a strange sense of growing apprehension. Cedric couldn’t help but continually glance over at the Gryffindor table, or watch Harry in the halls, worrying that he wasn’t prepared properly for the Second Task. He wanted to help his younger friend, unsure of exactly how Harry was going to breathe underwater. Maybe he couldn’t teach Harry the bubble head charm that quickly, but he could at least help, right? Cedric found the giddiness that usually accompanied Cho fading, a fact she clearly had noticed to. 

“Cedric,” She said again, snapping him out of a train of thought, “You’re doing it again.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Staring off into nowhere?” 

“Er, right,” Cedric shook his head, clearing the thoughts. 

“What’s gotten into you?” 

“Nothing!” Cedric insisted. 

“Nothing?” She turned away with a huff, “Suppose I’ll just spend our one months anniversary alone then.” 

_ Crap.  _

“Wait, Cho,” Cedric heaved a long sigh as she began to leave, “I’m just stressed. About the Second Task. It’s hard to explain.” 

Cho rolled her eyes, “It’s always the tournament with you Cedric! I’m beginning to think you’re really too busy for a relationship right now. I don’t want this to tear apart our friendship.” 

_ Oh. Yeah. Maybe I am.  _

“What?” Cedric said weakly, stronger protests dying on his lips. “Cho…” 

“I don’t want to wait around for you Cedric, I’m sorry.” 

They broke up a week later. Between worrying about the tournament, schoolwork, and Harry, Cedric barely found the energy to care. Cho was right, as she usually was, they were better as friends after that. 

Harry looked significantly worse for wear at mealtimes. He clearly wasn’t sleeping well, and only really ate at Hermione’s insistence. Every time Cedric tried to talk to the younger boy though, he failed miserably, and Harry adamantly ignored them. 

* * *

With the First Task over Harry’s attention turned to the Yule Ball. After facing a dragon, Ron insisted to him the task of asking a girl should be easy. It wasn’t. Harry found he really,  _ really  _ didn’t even want to ask a girl to the dance, but of course he couldn’t explain quite why to Ron. And, he reasoned, maybe this would help him get over the weird thoughts he had about other guys. 

For a very strange, brief moment, Harry considered asking Cedric. That, however, was an absolutely ludicrous idea. 

Of course it was just his luck when he finally gathered the courage to ask Cho she’d already been asked, and of all the people that had asked her, it was Cedric Diggory. So Harry returned to the common room, rather deflated. Harry’s heart had soared with relief when he realized he fancied Cho, and now he felt hopeless. 

He tried to compartmentalize his feelings, he really did. But Cedric was with Cho. He was  _ always  _ with Cho. Between classes, on the weekend, all the time. Harry’s one chance at being normal, and it was gone. Pangs of jealousy hit him squarely in the chest every time he saw them. 

Thankfully Ron had decided to apologize and continue being his friend, Harry wasn’t sure how he’d survive this mess without him. Still, he felt his resentment towards Cedric grow. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but he couldn’t escape the fact he felt…

Betrayed. 

* * *

The Yule Ball was incredibly awkward and tense for Harry, barely enjoyable. Between looking longingly after Cho, dealing with the strange events surrounding the tournament, and his friends’ squabbles, he felt ready to snap. And then when Cedric, someone he was harboring an incredible amount of unfair resentment to, ran after him, he did. 

Later he would lie awake, like most nights--struggling to sleep, a seed of guilt growing in his chest. Cedric was right about one thing, he didn’t know what to do about the egg. It wasn’t exactly fair, he knew, to harbor such resentment towards Cedric for Cho. But he did, and he couldn’t find the humility in the following days to ask for help. So he grew steadily more anxious as the days ticked by, getting less and less sleep. 

The panic attacks started a week after the break ended. 

* * *

Not even a visit to Hogsmede from Remus and Sirius could really help Harry or console him, though Padfoot and Moony did try. Harry sensed his godfather was pained by the distance more than he was, that Sirius blamed himself for a lot of what was happening. He knew, intimately, what that felt like. 

It only strengthened his resolve that Sirius would  _ never  _ find out the truth about the Dursleys. 

They had done their best to give advice, but they were all frankly a little out of their league when it came to dealing with the tournament. Hermione was driving herself near made with books, convinced there had to be some obscure spell they could cast to make the shrieking make sense. When Harry had gotten around to talking about other things, mostly his crush on Cho, his friends had rolled their eyes and Sirius had chuckled. 

For a brief, wonderful moment, Harry felt normal. He could almost pretend he was  _ just  _ a normal teenager, talking about his crush to his godfather and friends. But of course, one look into Sirius’ eyes--exhausted from months on the run--and it hadn’t lasted. 

One week away from the second task, Harry began to truly worry. And it was there, huddled over another book Hermione had pressed into his hands to try to figure out the mystery, fate had it that Cedric found him. 

“Harry,” The older boy said firmly, sitting down beside him. 

“Cedric,” Harry acknowledged, not meeting his gaze. 

“Look,” Cedric took a deep, bracing breath. “I think you’re mad at me.” 

Harry glared at him, immediately feeling his resolve to resent Cedric begin to crumble, “Yeah Cedric,” He said finally, quietly. “I am.”

_ Am I though?  _

“Why?” Harry remained petulantly silent, refusing to greet Cedric's gaze. Cedric sighed, “Harry, I’m your friend, right?” 

_ Yes?  _

Memories of concern in summer letters, of a tall boy who stood up for Harry’s defense at the World Cup, who believed him immediately and held him as he fell apart, who helped him survive the first task, suddenly overcame him. He wanted that, he realized, he wanted that friendship. He needed it, he realized, he needed someone besides Hermione and Ron. They were great, but Cedric was right, he had experience the three of them couldn’t match. He understood in ways they couldn’t, especially with the tournament. 

Harry tensed, his hand clenching tight enough his fingernails began to cut into his palms. 

“Yeah,” He said finally. “You are. I’m sorry Cedric. I just...Cho.” 

The initial reason for the tension in their friendship seemed so ridiculously, stupid, petty now. As his worry about the Second Task had risen, his jealousy over Cho had steadily faded. 

_ They were right. I’m just a kid. Just a stupid, stupid, kid.  _

“Oh,” Cedric blinked in surprise. “You’re the other person who asked her.” 

Harry nodded, “I’m sorry, Cedric, it’s...it’s stupid. I was just…” He grimaced. “I was just jealous, I think. And at the Yule Ball, I was really rude to you, I didn’t mean it.” 

Cedric smiled, shrugging easily, “It’s okay Harry, really,” A moment later he added, with a bit of a grin. “So do you like her?” 

He blushed, looking away. Something weak was fluttering in his chest, making it suddenly very difficult to talk, “Uh…” 

_ No.  _ He suddenly realized.  _ I really don’t. I was just...excited to feel normal. To feel anything for a girl. I really don’t.  _

“No,” He repeated, glad that speaking the truth seemed to cement it. 

Cedric grinned, “You sure Harry? We broke up. Though I’m not sure she has the best track record with tournament champions now, she’s a free lady I suppose. Mind you, she’s still my friend so if you hurt her, I will not be happy.” 

Harry stared at him for a moment, blinking in surprise. A few weeks ago, he would have been elated. Now he found himself thinking more about the fact that Cedric was probably hurt, and he was being a rather stupid friend, “No, really, I don’t. Er, sorry about that.” 

Cedric shook his head, “I didn’t really have the time for a relationship with everything going on. We’re better off as friends.” 

Harry grimaced, “Yeah, suppose I don’t either.” 

“You really figured it out though? You’re alright with the Second Task?” 

_ Ah, no.  _

Shame, a heat that started at the back of his neck and seemed to travel to rest solidly in his chest, burned to the core of Harry's soul. He’d lied to Cedric, and he was pretty rude before about it. Silently, he shook his head. 

Cedric’s eyes widened in alarm, “Harry! I thought...I was just worried I didn’t realize you actually hadn’t figured it out! You don’t even...Merlin, you don’t even know how to swim. Why didn’t you...why didn’t you ask for my help?” 

Harry buried his head in his hands, not able to meet Cedric’s worried gaze, “I’m sorry,” He said, between gritted teeth. Belatedly he realized he was crying, and felt his shame rise. “I’m just...so...tired.” 

“Hey,” Cedric's voice was suddenly steady, accompanied by a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Harry, look at me.” 

Harry managed to, terrified at the same time he was grateful, “I don’t know what to do Cedric.” 

“That’s okay, Harry,” Cedric sighed deeply. “We’re going to get through this, okay? I promise, I’m going to help you figure this out. I told you, we’re getting through this, together. Just, please, stop shutting me out. I don’t know how to be a friend to you if you won’t let me.” 

Surprisingly, Harry felt the tension begin to subside from his shoulder for the first time in weeks. It was replaced by an overwhelming feeling of relief, almost a feeling of safety. Harry found, in that moment, that he trusted Cedric, intrinsically and entirely. 

Taking a deep, bracing breath, he nodded, “So, why do I need to know how to swim Cedric?” 

* * *

The day before the second task Harry woke up feeling confident. He finally had a plan, Dobby was going to steal the gillyweed, and it looked like everything was going to be alright. For once, he was believing in himself. That feeling didn’t last. 

Sometimes anxiety doesn’t have a clear trigger. It could have been almost anything, Harry realized. Maybe it was that he couldn’t find Ron and Hermione since dinner, and he was irrational convinced they had abandoned him. Maybe it was Snape raising his voice at him. Maybe it was just the tournament. Maybe it was just sheer mental exhaustion. 

Whatever triggered it, it left him a trembling mess of hyperventilation and tears. He ran away almost on instinct, wishing desperately he had his cloak, knowing if he ran into Malfoy now it would be the end of it. Emotions he kept firmly clamped down, shoved into boxes in the corner of his mind, struggled and fought against his hold desperately. 

If his mind was to be believed, he could feel the pain of every scar as if it were fresh, even as his back was finally healed from the summer. With those wounds and scars came the shame, and the fear, and so much pain. It was all suddenly too much, and he felt certain for a moment his soul would rip apart with the force of it. 

Cedric found him there, hidden in the shadows of an alcove; Harry wasn’t entirely sure how Cedric did, but he couldn’t find the energy to ask him to leave. He’d never been more relieved to see the older boy, because with him came a steady feeling of safety. 

“Harry,” Cedric said softly, kneeling just outside of the shadows. “You alright? 

Harry, shaking with anxiety, couldn’t find the words to speak. He could only shake his head. 

Cedric took a deep breath, and extended his hand, “I know I’m probably not who you’d want to be here right now Harry, but I’m here. I’m here as a friend.” 

He stared at Cedric’s hand for a long moment, wanting nothing more than to sink into the walls of the castle and disappear. Then he met the gaze of his friend and something in him, some barrier of resistance, crumbled into dust in an instant. He took the hand, and second later felt himself pulled into a hug. 

And he melted into it, accepted it for every promise of friendship and trust it was. 

Harry didn’t know exactly how, but they ended up in front of a painting of fruit. Cedric must have led him there because he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to find his way to anywhere at that moment, not even Gryffindor tower. Cedric had a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulder, even though Harry had managed to mostly calm down and was now breathing normally. 

“Cedric?” He finally asked, confused as the older boy reached up to tickle the pear. “What, exactly, are we doing here?” 

Cedric turned to him with a puzzled look, “Don’t tell me you’ve never been to the kitchens before, Harry? With the amount of sneaking about you do, between the map and the cloak, surely you know about this.” 

“Uh, no?” 

“Well then,” Cedric grinned and opened the door with a flourish, “I have the honor of presenting to the one and only Harry James Potter, the one and only Hogwarts Kitchens.” 

Harry blinked in surprise as an enormous, high-ceilinged room, as large as the Great Hall above it, with mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped around the stone walls, and a great brick fireplace roaring at the other end. Long wooden tables ran down the length of it and dozens of houselves milled about, taking care of the clean up from dinner. 

A familiar figure shot out from the rest, wearing a bizarre assortment of clothes. “Harry Potter, sir! Mr. Diggory! Dobby is most glad to be seeing you!” 

“Dobby!” Harry exclaimed happily, “I didn’t know you were working here.” 

“I is being paid sir! By the headmaster.” 

“Good to see you Dobby,” Cedric smiled. “Didn’t know you knew Harry or we would have been here sooner.” 

Harry chuckled, “Dobby tried to save my life Second Year.” Dobby grinned sheepishly. 

“Well, looks like I was correct Dobby, you are a truly wonderful elf,” Cedric gestured and led Harry over to one of the tables, “I was wondering if we might get a bit of hot cocoa?” 

Dobby nodded enthusiastically, “Sirs have a big day tomorrow! Dobby is getting that right away Mr. Diggory.” 

Harry let his anxiety fall away then. With Cedric, a cup of warm cocoa, and an overwhelming feeling of safety, his fear didn’t seem quite so important. 


	5. Trust Between Friends

**Chapter 5: Trust Between Friends**

Harry found himself sitting across from Cedric at the table, a warm mug of cocoa pressed into his hands. Somehow holding on to it, sipping the warm liquid, helped with the lingering tremors from his anxiety attack. He had never felt them dissipate so quickly. 

“So Harry,” Cedric finally said, setting his mug down, “I’m guessing…” 

Harry paled, knowing from the look of sincere concern Cedric was about to ask questions he didn’t want to answer. Except the worst part was that part of him did want to answer, to tell him everything, to finally unload every secret hurt and worry. He didn’t though, staying silent and staring at the grain of the table. 

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t burden Cedric with the truth, and he wouldn’t risk destroying whatever strange friendship had developed between the two of them. He needed Cedric, not just as support for the tournament, as a friend. 

“I’m okay Cedric,” He finally said, looking up to meet the older boy’s eyes. 

“No,” Cedric shook his head firmly. “You’re not okay Harry. And I’m not going to pressure you into talking about anything you don’t want to, but there are things you aren’t talking about. I’m here, if you want someone to listen. I’m here.” 

Harry looked away, not trusting himself to meet Cedric’s gaze any longer, “Really, I just...get anxious you know? I’m sorry I don’t even really know what...triggered all that. I suppose it’s just the stress of tomorrow really, anything would have set me off.” 

“First off,” Cedric said slowly, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands, “You have nothing to apologize for. Anxiety isn’t shameful, though I do wish you would realize we’re all here to help you.” 

He stared down at his cocoa dejectedly, knowing a frown was building on his forehead, “Yeah, it is.” Harry mumbled on his breath, the hard words of his uncle echoing at the back of his mind. He had learned how to compartmentalize specifically to deal with the anxiety, it was a dangerous weakness in the Dursley household. 

“Come again?” 

“Anxiety,” Harry gritted his teeth. “It makes me weak. I hate...I hate it.” 

“Harry,” Cedric took a deep breath. “Harry look at me, please,” Harry did. “Am I weak?” 

Harry blinked in surprise, “What does that have to do with anything Cedric?” 

“Well,” Cedric gestured meaningfully to himself. “Am I?” 

“No…” 

“First Year I didn’t make it a week without an attack, Harry,” Cedric said flatly, meeting his gaze. “Second year it was worse. Wasn’t until Third Year it got any better.” 

Harry stared at him, unable to ignore the frank honesty in Cedric’s words, “What changed?” He asked finally, his voice soft. 

“I got help,” Cedric smiled. “Joined Quidditch, actually. Gave me an outlet and it gave...me a space to be vulnerable. My teammates were not overly impressed with my self-hatred, sent me to Professor Sprout. She started counseling me every week, taught me to believe in myself, taught me to work through fear. And here I am. I still talk to her, at least once a month. And I still have attacks, sometimes. But it can get better Harry.” 

Harry shook his head, “I’m not...I’m not ready for that Cedric. I don’t even know how I would talk to someone about…” 

_ I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I’m not as strong as you.  _ Harry shivered, not for the first time imagining he could feel the pain of his scars as if they were fresh wounds. 

“That’s okay,” Cedric reassured him, gently reaching over to rest his hand on his shoulder. “You’re allowed to need time. But tonight you need to rest, Harry. You’re not sleeping well. So here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to finish our cocoa, I’m going to walk you back to Gryffindor tower and give you a vial of Dreamless Sleep, and you’re going to rest.” 

* * *

Harry found himself standing next to Fleur, Krum, and Cedric, the gillyweed clutched tightly in his hand. He felt a bit ridiculous in his wetsuit-- he had Professor McGonagall help him acquire one with a long sleeved top under the pretense of spelling it for warmth-- next to the other champions, but he couldn’t find the energy to be embarrassed really. 

It was certainly better than the questions the scars would bring up if his glamours failed. 

He could hardly believe he was actually there. Weeks of worrying and obsessing over this moment were gone, it suddenly felt like he’d only grabbed the Golden Egg a week ago. He felt both ready and underprepared at the same time. 

Now he was faced with the reality of what he had to rescue. Hermione and Ron were missing. His best friends needed his help. He didn’t have time to not be ready now, people were depending on him. “On my whistle,” Harry took a deep breath, steadying himself. “One,” He shoved the gillyweed unceremoniously into his mouth.“Two,” He forced himself to swallow.“Three!” 

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stand erupting in cheers. Harry waded out into the late, the water so cold against his skin it seared like fire. Then, quite suddenly, Harry felt as though an invisible pillow had been pressed over his mouth and nose. He couldn’t breathe and was left gasping for any air. 

A hand reached up to his neck and the realization struck him-- _ He had gills.  _

The first gulp of icy lake water felt like the breath of life. Without pausing to marvel at this Harry shot forward, his inability to swim thankfully altered by the gillyweed. He was driven forward by the need to find his friends, to save them. 

_ They wouldn’t seriously let them die, right? They didn’t sign up for this. They didn’t get a choice.  _ Harry shot forward through the murky lake water, diving into the depths of the lake past patches of light green weeds. Ubidden the answer to his thoughts echoed back to haunt him-- _ I didn’t sign up for this either.  _

With renewed determination, Harry swam. 

When he came across the floating figures of the four hostages, Harry was suddenly struck with a desperation to save all of them. Ron was floating in between Hermione and Cho. At the sight of the Ravenclaw Seeker Harry bit back a strange pang of jealousy, realizing that Cho was important to Cedric, even as a friend, her death would hurt him. And next to her was the smallest figure, long blond hair floating listlessly around her head like a halo. 

Harry was suddenly struck with a horrific vision; the parents of that little girl, weeping over a bloated body devoid of life. It was too much to passively accept. 

He swam forward, severing Ron’s bonds with a flick of his wands and looking around in the murky water apprehensively for any sign of the others. He was left with naught but sullen silence and the haunting, echoing, distant sound of the merpeople’s song. Filled with sudden resolve Harry moved to rescue the other hostages, he swam forward, only to be met with the merpeople’s resistance. 

That’s when he began to panic. 

Cedric appeared suddenly then, swimming forward with a bubble around his head. He swam first to Harry in alarm, looking for an obvious reason he hadn’t moved and staring in confusion. 

“Harry?!” He demanded, his voice thin and echoey in the water, “Get out of here! What are you doing?”   
“I can’t leave them Cedric!” Harry gestured to the other’s, “What if the other’s got held back?” 

Cedric stared at him blankly for a moment, “Harry, that’s not your responsibility.” 

“It’s the right thing to do!” 

“Time’s running out! Gillyweed doesn’t last forever.” 

Harry waved his arm angrily towards Fleur’s sister, “How’s she supposed to get out of here on her own?” 

“They won’t let them be harmed,” Cedric insisted, “Come on.” 

“No, Cedric,” Harry met his gaze with steely resolve, “Take your friend. You don’t know that for certain. I’ll take care of it. Go on.” 

Cedric stared at him for a moment, hesitating, “Harry…” 

“Go! I’ll be right behind you, I promise.” 

And then he was gone, casting back one last furtive glance as he disappeared into the murky darkness of the lake. Krum showed up moments later, grabbing Hermione and leaving without a second thought. Precious minutes ticked by and Harry could swear he could  _ feel  _ the gills beginning to shrink. Cursing, realizing it was up to him, Harry quickly freed the little girl and began to furiously kick upwards. 

Merpeople rose with him, swirled around him. Harry wondered if when his lungs failed if they would drag the three of them back down into the darkness. The light of the sun shining on the surface seemed so distant, so impossibly far away. Would they feast on their remains? Would they even have bodies for the funerals? His legs were seizing horribly with the effort of the swimming, his shoulder aching with the effort of holding Ron and the girl, he was losing strength every moment…

It hurt to breathe, took conscious effort to filter the air in and out of his screaming lungs. Pain shot into the sides of his neck, sharp, stabbing pain. Yet the darkness was thinning...the light was there…

If he had the luxury of breathing in that moment, he would have screamed with the effort. He kicked furiously with his flippers, discovering suddenly they had turned to nothing more than feet. Water began to flood his mouth and lungs. But he knew the light was the goal, focused every fiber of his being on getting Ron and the girl there. He had to get there, had to, had to. 

And then he felt them break the surface of the lake, felt Ron wake and grab instinctually on to Fleur’s sister to keep her upright. Harry’s lungs screamed for oxygen, and he kicked with every desire to live. It wasn’t enough. He was trapped, Ron and the girl accidentally pushing him down before he broke the surface. He felt dizzy, felt water flow into his lungs. His vision wavered and his limbs sagged, adrenaline failing to push him and farther. 

Harry began to fall into the darkness, and he could not find the energy to fight any longer. A sort of dull fear, a pain in the center of his soul, entered him. It wasn’t panic, it was dred. Incapacitating, overpowering, inevitable, dred. 

_ Past an hour the prospect’s black... _

_ I’m going to die.  _

Then strong, familiar arms wrapped desperately around him and pulled him upwards. Someone was fighting for him to live, kicking and dragging them through the water with all their might. It yanked them upwards with such and abrupt force Harry barely had time to process it. 

And then he felt his head break the surface of the lake, felt himself cough and gasp as his lungs hacked up the water. Wonderful, cold, clear air stung at his wet face and he gulped it down greedily. The crowd was making a great deal of noise but the sound was distant, unremarkable at the moment. After a few moments of hacking he managed to look at the face of the arms holding him up, floating in the water with him. 

Cedric. 

“You bloody idiot!” He was shouting. That noise cut through to Harry’s attention. 

“Hmm?” Harry couldn’t find the words to speak. 

Cedric didn’t reply, just began to swim them to shore. Harry wanted to protest that he could pull his own weight now, but if he was being honest, he really couldn’t. And if he was being really honest, being held in Cedric’s arms, something that seemed to be happening on a weirdly regular basis, wasn’t so bad, it was rather comforting. 

Not that Harry knew quite to do with  _ that  _ feeling. 

Harry stumbled as they managed to reach the docks, pairs of helpful hands reaching to pull them upwards. Cedric wrapped Harry in a warm blanket, which felt like heaven against the cold air, and then abruptly pulled him into a tight hug. 

Moments later he broke away, staring intently into Harry’s eyes, “You promised me you were right behind me. Do you have any idea how terrified I was?! I thought you’d ran out of gillyweed and  _ drowned.  _ You almost did! What were you thinking, Harry?” 

“Hmm?” Harry asked again. He found his gaze wandering over to where Fleur, who he was quite glad to see alive and wrapped in a similar blanket, fussing over her sister. The answer to Cedric’s question hit him and he smiled softly, “Couldn’t let her die Cedric.” 

Cedric stared at him for a long moment, “You prat! You didn’t take the song that seriously did you? Dumbledore wouldn’t have let any of  _ them  _ drown. Us on the other hand?” 

“The song…” 

“It was to give us the time limit! The prospect would be black for the ruddy tournament, not their lives! You wasted time acting like the hero and it almost killed you.” 

Harry felt suddenly very stupid. He looked up at Cedric, at a mask of emotions he couldn’t name or begin to understand. “Oh,” He said softly, the realization of what had happened dawning on him finally, “Er...sorry.” 

“Sorry?” Cedric demanded, furiously taking off the shirt he had gotten on after he got back, which was now thoroughly soaked, and exchanging it for another blanket. “Harry, you can’t... _ please  _ never do that to me again,” He glanced over to Ron and Hermione, who were at that moment rushing forward, “To us again.” 

“Um, Cedric?” Harry said softly before the older boy had a chance to turn away. 

“Yeah Harry?” Cedric said, sounding suddenly very tired. 

“Thanks,” Harry closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself. “For the gillyweed...for your help...for saving me...for trying to stop me from being an idiot...for all of it.” 

“You would’ve  _ won _ Harry,” Cedric said firmly. “And I told them as much. Please don’t thank me...it’s what friends do. We need,” Cedric grimaced,. “I need to go talk to my parents and everyone, and you need to go to your friends. But later we need to talk about this Harry, I’m more than a little annoyed at the level of disregard you have with your own life. This conversation isn’t over.” 

Harry was left staring after the older boy as he marched away to his family, clearly tense. The announcement of the scores, giving him Second Place even though he almost died, barely struck his attention as noteworthy. The voices of his friends fell weirdly distant, like he was still somehow still underneath the water of the lake. All he could focus on was the knot of anxiety in his stomach that fluttered every time he looked over at Cedric. 

_ This conversation isn’t over... _

* * *

He didn’t have to wait long for the dreaded conversation, Cedric pulled him aside into an empty classroom directly after breakfast the next day. For a long moment neither of them spoke, Cedric leaning on a desk and staring out a dusty window. Light streamed in onto his face, highlighting some internal struggle that played out on his features. 

Harry watched him as the silence dragged on. He knew what Cedric wanted to ask, what Cedric would feel he needed to know. But he didn’t know how to convey the reality of the past three years, because looking back he realized how terrified he should have been. The thought of worrying another person, dragging another person into that mess, hurt. 

Because that was what this was about. Hermione called it his “saving-people-thing.” Even she, who understood the adventures of his school years, didn’t understand the roots of it. And now Cedric was catching on, even if he didn’t realize what he was catching on to. 

And maybe Harry was starting to fully understand it for himself at that moment, the roots of his saving-people-thing. He knew, intrinsically, there were more than physical wounds from the Dursleys. The panic was a visible wound, if not physical. 

The complete lack of self-preservation, self- _ worth, _ was a more hidden wound. 

“What were you thinking?” Cedric finally asked, his hands tightening into fists where they rested on the desk. 

Harry shrugged, leaning against the wall next to him. The truth, while somewhat stupid in retrospect, was simple enough, “That I didn’t want to see a family weeping over a child, Cedric. I didn’t want her, any of them, to die. It’s as simple as that.” 

Cedric turned and stared at him for a moment, “Nothing about this is simple Harry.” 

“No, it really is that simple.” 

“Why?” 

“It’s just what I do,” Harry looked away, studying the ceiling for a moment, “I don’t know what else to say Cedric.” 

Cedric turned abruptly and began to pace on the empty floor, “You need to do a whole hell of a lot better than that, Harry,” He stopped to throw a finger at him, pointing accusingly at his chest. “You told me my life was more important than the tournament! Well your life isn’t so worthless either.” 

“This is different!” Harry snapped, standing up straight. “Look, I’m sorry you had to jump in after me or something, but this is completely different than just the tournament.” 

“That’s not what I’m upset about.” 

“What then?” 

“I was scared Harry! You almost  _ died _ , or did you forget?” 

Harry sighed, “No, Cedric. I didn’t forget. My life...my life wasn’t worth more than hers. I couldn’t not save her.” 

“Merlin save us from Gryffindor heroics!” Cedric threw his hands up in exasperation. “Harry, do you bloody hear yourself?! You don’t get to make that choice.” 

_ Those choices are the only choices I’ve ever been given! I don’t have control over anything else.  _

“Yeah, Cedric I do!” He scowled. “And we’d be in a pretty bad shape here without ‘Gryffindor heroics’ Cedric.” 

“She would have been fine!” 

“I’m not talking about Fleur’s sister!” 

Silence reigned for a moment after what Harry realized he had blurted out: the truth. Cedric again stared at him for a moment, studying him like he was a foreign plant. 

“What  _ are  _ you talking about Harry?” Cedric finally demanded, his voice low and flat. 

Harry grit his teeth, looking away for a moment and burying his face in his hands as he wrestled with his choices, “Cedric,” He said finally. “Saving people is what I do.” 

“You’re fourteen!” 

“It wasn’t any different when I was eleven! Not the first time I’ve risked my own life for someone else!” 

Cedric, again, stared at him. Apparently reaching a decision he took a deep, steadying breath, “Harry,” He said finally, “I think it’s time you explained some stuff. I want to be here for you, please let me in. What,  _ exactly,  _ do you mean.” 

Harry sighed and gestured to a desk, “I think we’d better sit down.” 

“Okay,” Cedric said, pulling two desks to face each other and abruptly sitting, “Start talking,” 

Harry sank into the seat, terrified at what he was going to try to convey, “How much do you know about what happened my first year?” He finally asked. 

“You killed Quirrel, he was trying to steal the Philosopher’s stone,” Cedric frowned. “What else is there to the story?” 

So Harry told him, describing the reaction to every suspicion they had. In retrospect, maybe it hadn’t been exactly smart to run ahead without planning, but there didn’t seem to be another option. McGonagall didn’t listen to them. And there was no one else. 

And the reality of who was actually trying to steal the stone was the scariest part. 

“But, Harry,” Cedric stared at him for a long moment. “You-Know-Who is gone? Why would you think Snape, or anyone for that matter, could be still serving someone who was gone?” 

Harry slowly shook his head, “Cedric, do you trust me?” 

“Of course.” 

“No, Cedric, do you really trust me?” 

A longer pause. 

“Yes, Harry. I trust you.” 

“Voldemort’s not gone. It wasn’t just Quirrel I faced that night,” Harry met his gaze steadily. “Voldemort was possessing him. He’s still out there, not quite a ghost, more like a wraith or a shade. I don’t know how, but I do know he wants to kill me. And he tried my First Year, and my Second Year.” 

“Give me a moment,” Cedric said, clearly straining. Finally, with a muttered curse, Cedric promptly walked over to the wall, punched it, and sat back down, trembling slightly. “I believe you Harry,” He said finally. “And that is...horrifying.” 

“Think I came closer to dying my Second Year, if that’s any reassurance.” 

“Not in the slightest, please continue.” 

So he did, explaining about the voice and the chamber and his perspective of the events of two years ago. And this was where the saving thing really came in, with Ginny Weasley. After he was finished Cedric, if possible, had grown even more pale. 

“You were…” Cedric trailed off. “That’s literally not possible Harry. A  _ basilisk  _ would kill you.” 

Harry rolled up his sleeve to demonstrate, revealing one of the few scars he didn’t hide under layers of magic. This one was fine to show, fine to explain. This was a battle scar, from a fight in which Harry fought back, like a proper Gryffindor. There was no shame in this mark, a circle of raised, tough flesh from the puncture wound. Surrounding it were tendrils of scars, almost like roots, where the venom had begun to attack his body. Cedric breathed in sharply. 

“How?”

“Fawkes,” At his continued look of confusion Harry continued. “The Headmaster’s phoenix. Fawkes came to the battle, helped me. Plucked it’s eyes out at the beginning so it couldn’t kill me straight off, cried to heal me after I stabbed it with the sword. Honestly,” He sighed. “These things aren’t really that big of a deal in the moment. Just sort of used to the whole fight or die or watch your friends die routine by this point.” 

Cedric stared at him, “Do you hear yourself? The only reason you survived was because the legendary familiar of Albus Dumbledore saved you. That  _ is  _ a big deal. Harry, what has happened the past few years has always been and always will be a  _ very  _ big deal. As long as I am your friend these things are going to terrify me because although you seem to not care about your life I do. So please, what actually happened your third year with Sirius Black?” 

_ Ah,  _ Harry realized,  _ That.  _

Because now it wasn’t a question of if Cedric trusted Harry. Once again, Harry had to trust Cedric. But he did, so he told the truth. 

Cedric was once again silent, only growing paler and making small noises as he explained in a rather flat, matter of fact voice. Finally he nodded and slowly leaned back in his chair, “Okay. So Sirius Black isn’t a murderer.” 

“Cedric,” Harry’s voice grew desperate then, a pang of fear for his godfather hitting him in the chest, “He’s innocent. If they find him he’s worse than dead. He doesn’t deserve that.” 

“Relax, Harry,” Cedric leaned in and rested his hands reassuringly on Harry’s shoulder, “I told you, I trust you. I’m glad you trust me, grateful even. You have a whole ton of issues, we certainly didn’t work through everything today, but I’m here for you, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Okay,” Harry said, finally relaxing. “Thank you.” 

“Thank you for trusting me,” Cedric looked at him sternly, “But if more trouble finds us this year I don’t know how I’m going to cope. I feel like this conversation aged me five years. No wonder…” He took a deep sigh, “No wonder you reacted so strongly when I chose to risk my life for this bloody tournament.” 

Harry grimaced, “Yeah.” 

They sat in a silence, a comfortable silence, for several minutes. Silence always seemed to come easy between them, they both sensed when the other needed time to process. It was the easy kind of silence between good friends. 

“He’s really...out there...You-Know-Who I mean.” Cedric once again turned and stoof to stare out the window, “And if Dumbledore knows the Ministry knows. And no one is doing anything, leaving it to someone still in school.” 

Harry nodded, grimly. 

“How do you live with all this?” 

Harry shrugged, standing up and moving to the door, “We both have people to catch up with Cedric. I just keep moving, that’s all we can do.” 

Cedric grimaced, crossing the room in a few long strides and pulling Harry into a soft hug for a few moments, “Eventually you have to stop Harry. You can’t keep moving forever. Eventually you have to stop and heal. And you aren’t alone, we’re going to prepare this time, together. We’re making it out of this tournament, I promised you.” 


	6. Realizations

**Chapter 6: Realizations**

The weeks following the second task passed in a strange, blissful peace. Cedric took to hanging out with Harry’s group of friends more and more often, to the point other people noticed. The first time he sat at the Gryffindor table was slightly awkward, just as the first time they ended up joining him at the Hufflepuff table was awkward, but it faded. By the third or fourth time, it wasn’t even off. 

Harry finally actually met Cho, who he learned had been friends with Cedric for years, and he ended up feeling rather silly for the big deal he made out of his crush. All of Cedric’s true friends, which was a surprisingly small handful, welcomed them amicably. 

Ron, after getting over his initial wariness of the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain, delighted in discussing the sport with the older boy. So it was that the three of them spent a handful of afternoons flying around the pitch. Hermione was pleasantly surprised to suddenly have a study partner for her more advanced classes, and Cedric was happy to help. So it was that they found themselves, more than a handful of evenings, gathered around books in the library. Cedric and Hermione, almost unspokenly, pulled out advanced defense texts for Harry whenever he finished regular homework. 

Every time they spoke, every time Cedric even waved cheerily in the hallways, Harry felt a strange fluttering warmth enter his chest. He felt almost giddy when they talked, and that happiness seemed to linger through the day. It was, in a word, wonderful. 

As they entered March the weather became drier, but cruel winds began to assault them every time they went out to brave the grounds. The owls became delayed, slowled by the battles they had to fight against the wind. The brown owl Harry had sent to Sirius with the Hogsmeade weekend dates turned up a little worse for the wear, it’s feathers sticking at random angles. 

Sirius’ letter was almost as short as the previous one. 

_ Be at strike at the end of the road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o’clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can.  _

Harry smiled, weirdly happy about the idea of introducing his new friend to Sirius. Again, he found himself surprised how deeply he suddenly trusted Cedric. But Hermione and Ron, having discussed this at great length after Cedric’s long conversation with Harry, agreed it was safe to bring him fully into the loop. 

Cedric seemed more than happy to come along, even being somewhat protective about it. Harry found the latest article of Skeeter and Potions class together couldn’t even dampen his mood for too long. 

* * *

They left the castle at noon the next day to be greeted by a weak silver sun shining down on the grounds. The weather was milder than it had been all year, and by the time they arrived at Hogsmeade, all four of them had shed their winter cloaks. Harry carried a bag filled with food, Cedric had been helpful in acquiring the supplies from the kitchen. 

On the way there Cedric seemed to grow more nervous, grimacing every few minutes, “So, Sirius Not-Mass-Murderer Black. What’s he like?” 

“Er,” Harry hesitated. “He’s a bit…” 

“Unhinged,” Hermione offered, to Harry’s nodd. 

“But he’s really sweet,” Ron added. 

“And protective of Harry,” Hermione grinned. “So that’s something you have in common.” 

After stopping in Hogsmeade to find Dobby, who had been extremely helpful and who Harry felt bad for not giving any gifts for Christmas, the loudest socks they could find, they turned up a street on Hogsmeade Harry was entirely unfamiliar with. Waiting for them was a very large, shaggy black dog, carrying some newspapers in its mouth. 

“Hello Sirius,” Harry said in greeting.

Padfoot turned, seeing Cedric and beginning to growl. 

“This is Cedric, don’t worry, he can be trusted. He’s a friend, I promise.” 

The black dog whined, sniffed Harry's bag eagerly, wagged its tail once, then turned and began to trot away, leading them towards the rocky terrain at the foot of the mountain. By the time they arrived at the end the four of them were somewhat out of breath, Cedric less so. When Sirius reappeared he was wearing tattered grey robes, the same clothes he had worn after Azkaban. 

For a moment, Harry tried to stop himself. But seeing him again, in person, was suddenly too much and he found himself flinging himself as his godfather. Sirius wrapped him in his arms easily, strangely steady for someone looking so haggard. For a moment they just stood there, Sirius holding him close, then broke apart, both smiling softly.   
“Chicken!” He said hoarsely, breaking into a wide grin and taking the proffered bag from Harry. “Thanks. Can’t steal too much, would attract too much attention. I’ve been living off rats mostly.” 

Harry returned his godfather’s grin only reluctantly, his anxiety returning, “What are you doing back here Sirius?” 

“Fulfilling my duty as godfather,” Sirius proclaimed, gnawing on the chicken in a rather dog-like way, “Don’t worry about it, I’m pretending to be a lovable stray.” 

He was still grinning, but seeing the anxiety in Harry’s face, spoke more seriously, “I need to be here, on the spot, with you Harry. You last letter...well, let’s just say things are getting fishier since we talked in person last time. I’ve been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, I’m not the only one who’s getting worried.”

“What if they catch you? What if you’re seen?” 

_ What if you die? What if I lose you too?  _

“You three and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I’m an Animagus,” Said Sirius, shrugging. He then caught sight of Cedric and stared at him, as if seeing him for the first time, “Well, and him,” Sirius turned darkly to Harry. “I know he’s helped you in the past Harry but...can he really be trusted with this?” 

“Er,” Harry hesitated as Sirius and Cedric locked eyes, seemingly having an invisible conversation. “He’s a friend, really. Saved my life in the past, twice actually now.” 

Sirius nodded, “I trust your judgment Harry. Good  _ friend  _ indeed,” He exchanged a meaningful glance with Ron and Hermione both Cedric and Harry didn’t catch, then extended his hand to Cedric, “Sirius Black,” He said firmly. “Thank you for saving my godson.” 

Cedric nodded, taking the hand and shaking it in a manner that struck Harry as weirdly formal, “Cedric Diggory,” He grinned, turning to Harry and giving him a playful shove. “Someone’s got to help him when trouble finds him.” 

“Right you are,” Sirius said, picking up an article from the save floor, “Serious business, protecting him is.” 

The rest of the conversation turned sombre, and a bit sour, as they turned to ministry politics, past death eaters, and the failing health of Mr. Crouch. It was inevitable they left the meeting with a heavy weight of foreboding on their shoulders, a feeling that was all together too common that year. 

* * *

Later that night, Harry’s thoughts turned to Cedric. He really was a good friend, supportive, yet stern in a way Harry realized he needed in his life. Neither Ron or Hermione  _ really questioned  _ the events of the past three years at this point, but Cedric had been downright horrified. He cared deeply, and stood up for him, had stood up for him for a long time, right from the beginning of their friendship, Harry realized. 

Cedric accepted Harry’s friends easily, fitting into the dynamic of their group with a weird, yet comforting, familiarity. And when things happened to them, Cedric didn’t just accept it passively. When the new Skeeter articles came out, dragging Hermione and Harry through the dirt he immediately set out to write his father at the ministry to see if anyone could do something. Nothing much came of it, but it was nice to have someone older fighting beside them. 

And that was what Cedric did, he fought for people. Even if he didn’t do it the same way a Gryffindor might, charging into battle, Cedric didn’t leave his friends to fend for themselves. In a very endearing, reassuringly, Hufflepuff way, Cedric was every bit as brave--perhaps even more--than they were. He was a steady rock for them to gravitate towards. He wasn’t just a good friend, he was a good person. 

He made Harry  _ happy  _ and  _ at ease _ when he was around, in a way Harry couldn’t remember ever quite being. It was like the feeling of his first Hogwarts christmas, mixed together with the feeling of staying at the Burrow, and tied off with the feeling of being with Ron and Hermione. It was wonderful. So Harry grinned to himself, looking up at the canopy of his bed cheerfully for several minutes, pondering the luck of this friendship. 

And then it struck him, quite like a physical blow in it’s force. 

_ Oh.  _

Cedric made him happy, in a way that was totally foreign. 

_ Oh.  _

Hugging Cedric was like the butterfly feeling Cho had given him, magnified a hundred fold. 

_ Oh.  _

Cedric was close to them, close to  _ him _ . 

_ Oh.  _

Harry wanted him to be closer. 

_ Oh. That.  _

That was decidedly something to panic attack. Harry realized with sinking certainty in that moment he had feelings for Cedric, feelings that went too far beyond the simple friendship they had built over the years. He had feelings for Cedric, another guy, something he had been sure he had managed to get over. 

Unbidden, voices from his past echoed back at him. Vernon Dursley had made it precisely clear, spoken in no uncertain terms, in his household what he thought of  _ queers.  _ If there was one thing Harry could be that was worse than what he was born as, a wizard,  _ that  _ was it. If there was possibly one thing Dudley could do to anger Vernon, being that would be it. 

Harry began to shake and tremble with the fear. If that was what the majority of Muggles seemed to consider people him to be like, then what would the wizarding world, which was by all accounts somewhat behind the times, think? 

He felt nauseous, and could almost hear Malfoy’s taunt from a mile away. Not just his taunts either, in a flash he saw other’s turning on him. Sirius, Remus even. Ron, Hermione. The Weasleys. 

Cedric. 

_ No! _

Steely resolve entered his soul then, settling in his veins with the cold harsher than ice. Cedric would hate him if the truth was ever found out, that much was clear. On top of everything else he didn’t have the time or energy to deal with this. 

_ What is wrong with me? How can I feel like...that? I have to be better, grow beyond this.  _

_ I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t.  _

Harry turned and let the pillow muffle the sounds of the shuddering sobs that escaped him, despite his determination to overcome this. Part of him didn’t want to. And when he finally drifted off to sleep... in his dreams... a pair of strong, familiar arms, held him softly. 

* * *

Harry, in a not very Gryffindor move, failed to muster the courage to face Cedric at breakfast the next morning, practically ignoring him. He missed the worried looks Cedric shot his direction, managed to slip away every time Cedric took panicked steps after him. Every time he saw the older boy it sent a wave of nausea coursing through his stomach. Any courage, any resolve he had left to try and face Cedric, any fleeting thought of explaining, left him. 

Sometime in the afternoon Hermione ran into him, took one look at his tense form, and sighed, “Harry, what is it now?” 

Unable to find the words he shook his head, leaning against the solid stone of the castle wall, “Can’t explain ‘Mione.” 

She settled beside him, looking at him with her steady gaze, “Try me Harry.” 

“You wouldn’t...I can’t… I don’t…” 

“Ah,” She said, as if having reached the answer to a particularly complex puzzle. “That.” 

“That?” 

“It’s perfectly normal to have a crush Harry.” 

He blinked, turning to her in surprise, mixed with horror, “How? Was I that obvious?’ 

Hermione chuckled, “Don’t worry too much Harry. Don’t think anyone besides me, Ron, or Sirius would work it out at this point. Maybe Professor Lupin. Cedric certainly won't, he’s almost as dense as you are.” 

Harry stared at her, “How can you be so calm at this?” 

She shrugged, “It’s not that big of deal Harry, especially not here. And for the record, I love you and will always accept you. Wizards are too concerned with blood politics Harry, one small side benefit is they tend to overlook other civil rights issues. There’s quite a few queer couples here, haven’t you noticed?” 

Numbly, Harry shook his head, “Won’t matter, Hermione. He’ll hate me.” 

She stared at him with a long, pointed look, and abruptly pulled him into a hug, “No, he won’t you big idiot. And before you get any stpid ideas, neither will Ron and I. Or Sirius or Lupin, for that matter. We’ll never hate you Harry. But you don’t have to tell him yet, just talk to him, y’know? He’s worried about you Harry. He’s too good of a friend for his own good sometimes, don’t do that to him, please.” 

Taking a deep, bracing breath, Harry nodded. 

* * *

Harry resolved to talk to Cedric that day, directly after Cedric’s last class. Belatedly he realized he had memorized Cedric’s class schedule and knew exactly where to find him. When he had done that he wasn’t exactly sure, and he felt a bit queasy considering that was a bit weird. 

_ Surely not that weird? I know Hermione and Ron’s schedule...even though they’re mostly the same as mine… _

So it was that Harry found himself marching to the Charm class, looking around at the crowd of sixth-year students for his friends. The butterflies and the nausea were back in full force, resulting in quite the mixture of headache and dizziness for Harry. Just as he was about to give up hope, he spotted Cedric. 

In a rather secluded alcove, standing rather close to Cho Chang, grinning and laughing. 

_ Oh.  _

And there was the familiar pang of jealousy, on this time he realized the true source of it. 

Cedric had a girlfriend, like someone  _ normal.  _ He had friends of his own, friends of his own age, of his own house. He didn’t need Harry like Harry needed him, he had a perfectly normal life to be living. If Cedric knew more of the truth, about the Dursleys, about  _ Harry, _ he most certainly wouldn’t want to be around. 

Harry was ruining Cedric’s life, he realized with certainty. He felt an immense wave of guilt strike him then. He’d brought Cedric into the loop, about almost everything dangerous, about Sirius. Not that he didn’t trust the Hufflepuff, the problem was how deeply he  _ did  _ trust him. 

_ In the eyes of the Ministry,  _ He realized.  _ Cedric’s committing a crime. His loyalty could land him in jail. I’m putting him in danger.  _

Harry began to run without thinking of it, and he fled the scene quickly enough he didn’t hear the sound of Cedric calling after him over the beating of his own heart. He fled to the more obscure corridors on instinct, wanting to avoid anyone and everyone at that moment. 

Cedric was right. Harry’s life was inevitably filled, time and time again, with danger. Trouble would seek him out, time and time again. He was a danger to himself, that much was obvious. But, more importantly, he was a danger to the people around him. 

_ Ron and Hermione, swept into his stupid heroics to fight beside Harry….  _

_ Sirius and Remus..drawn out of the safety to be close to Harry… _

_ Cedric, pulled into the fighting by his instinct to protect Harry... _

Harry broke down, collapsing against the wall of the shadowed hallways. Something in him shattered like glass with the weight of the guilt. The tears brought fresh shame, for his weakness, but he did not have the strength to stop them. Oxygen turned into a strange sort of cage, like he was drowning once again, and his breath seized painfully in his lungs. 

_ I’m nothing more than a sniverling, weak coward, reliant on ruining other people’s lives to survive... _

He shook, not with the cold. His body felt strangely distant, a vessel of life that was strangely constraining. It would be easier, he figured, if he wasn’t in that body. If he were a ghost, left to wander alone, or better yet, not there at all...no one to worry about him...no one to endanger...

He failed them, miserably, by becoming too close.

Harry could almost hear the thudding of Vernon’s footsteps as he lumbered to the cupboard, the crash as he flung the door wide, the crack as he smacked the belt against the wall, then against him… He could remember the pain, the awful loneliness as he cried alone in a tub filling with water turned pink by his blood. 

And he was more sure than he had been in a long time that he deserved it. 

It was a long time before he found the strength to walk to Gryffindor tower. A determination entered him then, the last repentance he could ask for his sins. He could cut off Cedric completely, hope the damage inflicted by their friendship wasn’t too deep, hope Cedric made it out of the tournament alive, safely away from him. He had to do more than deny his feelings, he had to carve out a hole in the space Cedric had filled in his soul. 

Hermione let him cry on her shoulder, didn’t press too deeply, just sighed when he told her his decision. She seemed to want to say a thousand things, yet failed to find the words from any language to say anything. She informed him he was an idiot, he agreed and his choice never wavered for a moment. 

And, when he drifted off to his sleep, his dreams were filled with blood and fear...

* * *

Cedric lay awake one night, staring up at the yellow canopy of his bed. His thoughts turned to his young friend, Harry Potter, and he found himself grinning widely. Harry was a good friend, infinitely kind, stupidly brave, a piece of Cedric’s life that had been missing. Harry had an insane life, yet despite it, he continued onwards. An overwhelming desire to protect the younger boy often struck Cedric, pulling him even closer and deeper into their friendship. 

His friends were incredible, accepting him into their dynamic easily. Cedric felt the bubble of people he was loyal to, the people he would fight to protect, naturally grow to accommodate them, even Harry’s somewhat unhinged grandfather. Harry surrounded himself with good people. 

Harry was... Harry was a most decidedly  _ good person.  _ His bravery, while likely to give Cedric a heart attack, was downright inspiring. He fought his battles openly, proudly, and without second thought for his own safety if others were in danger. He jumped to protect people, as if he could fashion his life into a shield. 

He wasn’t perfect, but nobody in the wide world was. He was wonderful in an uncommon way, in a unique way, in a...Harry way. 

Spending time with Harry made Cedric happy, giddy even, in a way he could remember growing out of. It was a sort of youthful happiness, a feeling some would say didn’t belong with maturity, but Cedric was finding it was all the more powerful for its purity. Harry and his friends were filled with life, a blindingly bright spark of light in dinginess of the normalcy he had accepted into his daily routine and life. He found the second he walked away from Harry, the moment he released a hug, he wanted to pull him back. 

And then it struck him, sending shivers of excitement down his nerves. 

_ Oh.  _

Harry made him happy in a way he thought wasn’t quite possible anymore. 

_ Oh.  _

Harry gave him the butterflies Cho and Archie had once given him, magnified a hundred fold. 

_ Oh.  _

Cedric was attached to Harry, close to him. 

_ Oh.  _

Cedric wanted to be closer. 

A giddy giggle escaped him then, and he had to clasp a hand over his mouth to hold back a bark of joyous laughter. Third year when he crushed on Archie the realization had been terrifying, now it was oddly exhilarating. It was not unlike the feeling he got the first time he called a broom to his hand. 

_ Harry… _

But Cedric realized, with certain, sinking disappointment, he had to be careful. He had grown to care deeply about the younger boy, to value their friendship. Amidst the chaos the tournament had wrecked upon this life, Harry was always a reassuring presence. The thought of losing him, of scaring him away, terrified Cedric. 

With a resigned sigh he turned over and closed his eyes to sleep. There was no helping it. Besides, Harry was much younger than him, probably not interested in anyone, let alone other guys. And neither of them really did have time for any relationship with the tournament going on. If Cedric wanted to remain close to him he had to be the mature, responsible friend and push his feelings aside. 

It wasn’t going to be especially enjoyable or pleasant, but it was better than the alternative. 

* * *

Harry was avoiding him, of that much Cedric was certain. At breakfast he didn’t do so much as wave at him, and every Cedric shot him worried glances he couldn’t seem to catch the younger boy’s eyes. He wasn’t eating much of anything, again, something Cedric had realized Harry did when he was upset. Every time Cedric tried to chase after and catch up with the younger boy throughout the day he practically sprinted to avoid him. 

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Cedric began to fear the worst. Harry was obviously mad at him, furious even. Did he somehow find out Cedric liked guys? Was he utterly and completely disgusted? Cedric had to grit his teeth to handle the anxiety that threatened to shake him apart. He hadn’t exactly kept it a secret, most of the house knew. It was just sort of an unspoken, accepted, fact. 

But Cedric hadn’t been this anxious about it since third year. 

He wasn’t entirely sure how he made it to his last class that day. Flitwick’s lecture seemed to pass through his ears like a foreign language, something he had to put in conscious effort not to completely tune out. And by the end of the class, he felt the familiar panic start to take over him. 

Slipping away from the crowd of sixth year students, Cedric managed to make it to one of the more hidden alcove before he started to fall apart. It hurt, with a pain that he had gone so long without. His heart, his  _ soul _ , ached. He desperately ran through coping mechanisms in his head, tried to remind himself to just relax and breathe, but Professor Sprout’s advice seemed to leave him all at once. 

And then there were familiar, gentle hands on his shoulder. Cho was there, whispering reassuringly. Cedric was reminded of the friendship they had shared the past several years, something they had stupidly let a relationship take away from them. He wasn’t embarrassed to have her there, she’d seen him in worse states before. 

When he finally managed to calm down he leaned back against the wall with a tired sigh, smiling a bit, “Thanks Cho.” 

She returned the smile, “Anytime Ced.” They were silent for a moment, looking out as their classmates began to slowly break apart and turn their respective ways. Finally Cho grimaced and braced herself against the wall, “So, it finally dawned on you, eh?” 

Cedric stared, turning to meet her eyes, “What?” 

She nodded, “You’re panicking like you just met Archie and he ignored your existence. What happened between you and Harry?” 

“I...uh…” Cedric sighed, rubbing his temples. “I feel so stupid Cho. I just realized...just realized how I  _ feel  _ about him and now I think I did something horrible. He must be really mad, he won’t even talk to me Cho.” 

Cho sighed, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “I’m sure it will all work out in the end, Ced. If there’s one thing the past shows, it’s that you have a habit of overreacting to these things.” 

He blinked, chuckling a bit, “Yeah, I do.” 

And then Harry was  _ there _ \--standing in the middle of the group of sixth year students, scanning the faces for someone in particular. For a singular, fleeting moment, as their eyes locked, Cedric let himself hope there was something reciprocal in their feelings. But before he could react thought Harry was off, running faster than Cedric could keep up, slipping away into the hallways. 

And Cedric was left alone, utterly lost and confused. 


	7. A Choice That Doesn't Belong To You

**Chapter 7: A Choice That Doesn’t Belong to You**

Cedric tried to catch up with Harry, he really did. At every turn the younger boy slipped away from him, without so much as a word of acknowledgement. Cedric was growing increasingly worried and increasingly scared he’d done something horrible to their friendship. Just when he had really thought they were stable, when Harry had finally opened up to at least part of the truth, it was all gone. 

Harry was clearly furious with him, even angrier than he had been after the Yule Ball. 

After failing, yet again, to catch up and talk to Harry, Cedric found himself making his way to the library, hoping he could drown his troubles in studies. He walked into the rows of shelves, scanning the various study corners for a quiet place to finish his Potions essay, and without realizing what he was doing, walked towards the spot he usually occupied with Harry and his friends. He stopped abruptly, hesitating. 

Hermione was there, alone, scanning the pages of a book and making occasional notes. Cedric felt horribly unsure about his position. He liked being friends with Harry’s friends, he really did. They were good, kind, brave people. But what was his place in their dynamic, if he’d clearly hurt Harry? Surely Harry didn’t...hate him--that thought was too much to bear--but if he was angry, wouldn’t Ron and Hermione be too? 

_ No way to be certain but forward… _

Steeling himself, Cedric marched up to the table, “Hey Hermione,” He managed a weak smile. “Mind if I join you?” 

Hermione glanced up at him, her finger moving to hold her place in the book, and stopped to stare at him, evaluating him like he was something foreign. Finally with a sigh, she shrugged, “Yeah, of course Cedric. Can I get some help on my Arithmancy homework in a bit?” 

“Sure,” Cedric sighed with relief as he sat down. “Right after I finish my Potions essay.” 

Hermione nodded, returning to her research. For the better part of two hours they worked in mostly silence, only exchanging relevant conversation about their homework. Cedric was relieved that the normalcy of their study sessions had endured. Both him and Hermione were studious, more so than Ron and Harry, and tended to doggedly focus in the absence of any distractions. It wasn’t so bad. 

With a pang, Cedric realized he wished Harry and Ron were there too. Ron was certainly the more likely of the two friends to end up hating Cedric, and he would miss that horribly. This was fine, it wasn’t bad, but it was little more than a study session with some outside familiarity. Together the four of them laughed and smiled and left Cedric feeling like he could walk on water. Together the four of them had something he didn’t want to lose. 

Finally, the clock chimed the top of the hour and Hermione closed her latest book, “I’ve got to be going soon Cedric, sorry. Thanks for the help though.” 

Cedric absentmindedly nodded, moving back to his essay to proofread it. Just as Hermione stood to leave, a thousand questions seemed to bubble through his chest in a heartbeat, leaving him entirely tongue tied. 

“Er, Hermione?” He managed. 

She turned, leaning on the back of the chair with her palms, “Cedric?” 

“What did I do?” He grimaced. 

Hermione stared at him for a long moment, then heaved a long sigh and sat back down, “I don’t think you necessarily  _ did  _ anything Cedric. I don’t think this is your fault.” 

Cedric blinked, having not considered that possibility in the slightest, “Then why…” He trailed off, gathering his thoughts. He didn’t want to talk about this, really it was exhausting to talk about this, but he  _ needed  _ to talk about this. “Why is Harry upset with me Hermione ?” He asked finally, watching her face intently for a reaction. 

She grimaced, “Cedric…” She bit her lip, clearly weighing her answers. She seemed to understand what was going on in Harry’s head, Cedric hoped. Hermione always seemed to understand people, sometimes more than they understood themselves, “I don’t think he’s upset with you Cedric.” 

_ That  _ didn’t make any sense at all, and he found himself staring at her blankly for a moment. “Then...why…?” He finally prompted, hoping she could somehow explain. 

“He cares about you a lot, Cedric,” Hermione answered, smiling softly. “I don’t think he’s really capable of really being upset with you, of any of the three of us really. Sure, he might be annoyed, mad even sometimes, but not really upset. He could never hate us, any of us, you included.” 

A wave of relief, so strong it nearly felt like a physical blow, struck Cedric, spreading out from his chest to every corner of his soul. As it dissipated, however, it was quickly followed and replaced by confusion, and worry. 

“What’s going on with him Hermione?” He asked, concerned. 

“I think he’s upset with himself,” She admitted. “You know...you know he takes a lot on his shoulders, right?” He nodded. “Well, no one can bear that forever alone. And I don’t think he really knows how to let us in, though Merlin knows he needs it.” 

_ Oh, Harry.  _

“So what can we do?” 

“Be patient,” She answered, standing and slinging her book bag over her shoulder. “He’ll only run away if you try to push too hard right now. Keep trying to get him to talk to you, he can’t ignore you forever. I’ll try to talk to him too. He needs us, Cedric, we can’t give up on him,” She smiled softly. “Even if he seems to have given up on himself. See you later.” 

“See you,” Cedric waved absentmindedly, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. 

Somehow, this was more difficult than if Harry was simply angry at him. To see the younger boy hurt, physically or emotionally, left a phantom pain stabbing into Cedric’s own soul. To know that pain was self-inflicted, to know Harry thought so little of himself he was so quick to turn to self-hatred, somehow hurt all the worse. 

* * *

At half past eight the night Professor McGonagall informed Harry about the third task announcement; he left Ron and Hermione in Gryffindor tower and went downstairs, dred deeping in his stomach with every step. As he crossed the entrance hall, Cedric came up from the Hufflepuff common room. 

Harry froze, trembling slightly. 

Cedric smiled, waving, and walked over to him, “What d’you reckon it’s going to be?” he asked, sending a wave of relief over Harry as they went together down the stone steps, out into the cloudy night. If they could just keep conversation to the tournament, Harry thought he might almost be able to manage it. “Fleur keeps going on about underground tunnels, she reckons we’ve got to find treasure.” 

“That wouldn’t be too bad,” Harry answered, thinking he could probably manage that.

They walked down the dark lawn, towards the Quidditch stadium. Just before they reached a gap in the stand Cedric stopped, holding back Harry with a hesitant hand on his shoulder, “Look, Harry…” 

Harry turned to look at him, uncomfortable with the amount of honest, pure concern he saw on Cedric’s face. The pressure on his shoulder seemed to almost burn, in a pleasant, thrilling, way he had no time to process, “Cedric…” 

Steeling himself, Cedric took a deep breath, “We need to talk, Harry.” 

Harry brushed off Cedric's hand, anxiety squirming in his stomach, positive in that moment he would rather face the Horntail again, “Uh…” Words seemed to fail him.

“After they explain everything to us,” Cedric offered, looking somewhat desperate. “Please, Harry. We’re still...friends right? We need to talk, and I, uh, need to tell you something.” 

His resistance-- faced with Cedric’s unfailing, earnest, concern--crumpled, “Yeah, okay, I guess.” 

Cedric smiled and they walked through the stands, on to the field. 

“What’ve they done to it?” Cedric said indignantly, stopping dead in his tracks. 

The Quidditch field was no longer smooth and flat. It looked as though somebody had been building long, low walls all over it that twisted and crisscrossed in every direction. 

“They’re hedges!” Harry, momentarily forgetting his anxiety, bent to examine the nearest one. 

“Hello there!” called a cheery voice. 

Ludo Bagman was standing in the middle of the field with Krum and Fleur. Harry and Cedric made their way to join them, climbing over the hedges. Fleur beamed at Harry as he came nearer, her attitude towards him having warmed significantly since the events of the Second Task. 

Bagman explained the hedges, reassuring Harry and Cedric they’d have the Quidditch field back to normal after the task. Harry, not one to have ever liked mazes, wasn’t entirely excited at the prospect of facing one filled with creatures from Hagrid. He could only hope there wouldn’t be any dragons, and be grateful this one wasn’t below water. 

After he explained and the group began to head back to the castle Bagman hurried alongside Harry. He had the sinking feeling that Bagman was going to start offering to help him again, but Cedric saved him in that moment, tapping him on the shoulder to draw him away from the group. 

“Harry?” 

Harry’s stomach lurched but he nodded, “Yeah?” 

Cedric grimaced, then gestured, “Will you walk with me?” 

_ He wants to tell me our friendship was a mistake.  _

“Okay.” 

Bagman looked slightly perturbed, “I’ll wait for you, Harry, shall I?” 

“No, it’s okay, Mr. Bagman,” Harry said, suppressing a small grin. “I think I can find my way back to the castle on my own, thanks.” 

Together they left the stadium, walking across the grounds in the direction of the forest. When they at last had reached a quiet stretch of ground Cedric stopped and turned to Harry. 

“Harry, what is going on?” 

Harry froze, words dying in his throat. Part of him wanted to open up, to let the river of secrets and truths pour out of him all of once. He wanted to trust Cedric, to tell him everything. And he was haunted by the certainty that if he did, Cedric would hate him. 

“Uh, nothing,” He lied. 

Cedric stared at him for a long moment, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, clenching his hands into fists. 

_ He’s angry at you. He regrets this. You put him in danger. If he knew the truth he would hate you.  _

“Harry,” He said finally, his voice steadier. “I am worried about you. Please let me back in.” 

“I…” 

_ I can’t.  _

But in that moment something moved in the trees behind Cedric and Harry was spared having to answer. Having some experience of the sort of thing that lurked in the forest he instinctively grabbed Cedric’s arm and pulled him around. 

“Harry?” 

He shook his head, staring at the place where he’d seen movement. He reached for his wand, drawing it out, and Cedric followed suit. 

Suddenly a man staggered out from behind a tall oak. For a moment, Harry didn’t recognize him...then he realized it was Mr. Crouch. 

He looked significantly worse for the wear, like he’d been traveling, on foot, for days. His haggard appearance aside, he was happily conversing with the trees, raving like lunatic about tournament, Percy Wesley, and Dumbledore. Reaching a decision, Harry turned to Cedric. 

“You stay here with him,” Harry told Cedric. “I’ll get Dumbledore.” 

“Harry…” Cedric hesitated. 

Harry grinned slightly, turning to leave, “I’m the faster runner Cedric.” 

“Okay…” Cedric relented, lighting his wand to hold back the darkness while he waited. “Be careful Harry. The passwords Cockroach Clusters.” 

Harry stared for a moment, meeting Cedric's eyes, “Uh, you too. Be careful, I mean.” 

He took off at a sprint. 

* * *

“ _ Lumos,”  _ Dumbledore casted, lighting his wand and holding it up. 

The narrow beam of light traveled from black trunk to black trunk, illuminating the ground. And then it fell upon a pair of feet. And for a horrible moment Harry felt his heart flutter in his chest, fearing the absolute worst outcome. 

_ Cedric...no... _

Harry and Dumbledore hurried forward. Cedric sprawled on the forest floor, breathing shallowly. He was unconscious, and there was no sign at all of Mr. Crouch. Harry felt himself ask if he should retrieve Madam Pompfrey as if he was watching his body in the third person. A silvery figure darted out of Dumbledore’s wand a moment later, flying towards Hagrid’s cabin. Then Dumbledore bent over Cedric again, pointed his wand at him, and muttered,  _ “Enervate.”  _

Harry found himself unable to meet Cedric’s eyes as conversation passed quickly around him. The implications of the night were frightening, yet somehow small in comparison to the growing knot of anxiety in his stomach as he contemplated what Cedric wanted to tell him. 

_ That he made a mistake, obviously.  _

So he pretended not to hear, once again, as Cedric called after him. He slipped away, knowing with a shameful weight on his soul, he was a coward for not being able to face the truth.

* * *

Harry practically flung himself onto his bed in the dorm, having stormed past the conversation without answering a word of Ron and Hermione's questions. He didn’t trust himself to answer in that moment, didn’t trust himself to speak at all. 

The weight of the truth, of the guilt, was heavy on his chest. 

Everything was ruined, damaged beyond repair. Harry should have known, he thought scornfully, that he could never have the luxury of normal friendship and relationship in his life.

He didn’t get to have parents, the normal support of family that everyone else grew up with. Instead he was left with a godfather, slightly unhinged from trauma and twelve years in prison, who had to risk his life to talk to him. He didn’t get to have normal friends, girlfriends. He had to be cursed with constant danger and a weird attraction to his own gender. 

Harry felt like a ticking bomb, about to explode at any moment and hurt everyone around him. Sooner or later, it was inevitably going to go off again. All he could do was try to minimize the casualties, and he stupidly let people close enough to be in danger. 

He hurt his friends. They kept getting dragged into his mess, his fights. All of this with Voldemort, every time he found himself in mortal peril, was a danger to them. And yet Hermione, Ron, Remus, and Sirius were in too deep. He couldn’t live without them anymore, though he knew with certainty that made him selfish. 

But Cedric was something he hoped he could control. He could back out now, spare Cedric the pain. He didn’t deserve the older boy’s concern, he was sure of it. He could do the right thing, protect him. 

_ Save him.  _

And there it was again, the root of everything, Harry’s ‘saving people thing.’ 

_ He’s worth more than me. He deserves better. I’m weak, dangerous, stupid… _

Vernon Dursley’s words echoed back at him. 

_ Disgusting. Lazy. Freakish.  _

So Harry drew the curtain around his bed, having ignored all of his dormmates, and contemplated his loneliness. It wasn’t a sharp pain, like the bite of Vernon’s belt as it cracked through the air or the gash torn into his arm by the Horntail. It was a dull ache, like the feeling of being left in a dark cupboard for days on end. 

He was almost afraid to fall asleep, sure whatever his dreams held would haunt him. Just before he could the curtains of his bed were unceremoniously, abruptly, thrown open, revealing a scowling Hermione. In that moment it seemed to him she was a tempest personified, her eyes flashing dangerously, her hair and robes whirling around her as she moved. 

“Honestly, Harry,” Hermione sighed. “You really are an idiot sometimes.” 

Harry stared at her, biting his lip. “Yeah, I am,” he agreed sullenly. 

_ I am an idiot. Too dumb to keep you all safe. Too weak to protect you.  _

She scowled, crossing her arm, “Harry, stop sulking. Please.” 

“I’m not sulking.” 

“Cedric’s downstairs, waiting for you outside the portrait hole y'know.” 

Harry would have sworn his heart stopped beating for a moment, just as his lungs refused to breathe. He froze, clenching his jaw so tightly it began to ache. Then the tremors started, anxiety rippling and coursing through every nerve in his body. 

“Why?” He asked, his voice hoarse. 

_ You know why. Cedric is a good person. He came in person to end this. He’s decent like that.  _

“Because he’s worried about you, you big prat!” Ron came marching over, and Harry stared at him in surprise, having not heard his entrance, “Harry, get out the damn bed and go talk to him. He’s worried sick about you, you didn’t even say goodbye before you ran in here to sulk. Snap the bloody hell out of it.” 

He paused, their words fighting a silent, tense battle with his anxiety. Then, slowly, Harry sat up, moved his legs, and stood. The room buckled and swayed around him, his knees weak and his muscles strained from the running. Deliberately he made his way to the door and down the steps, avoiding eye contact with every Gryffindor. 

_ Better to get this over with,  _ He tried to reason, taking a step forward.  _ If it is ultimately inevitable, why prolong the wait?  _ Another handful of steps and he was at the portrait, still hesitating.  _ Because it’s going to hurt like hell.  _ His hand rested against the doorway.  _ Better he hurt me than I hurt him.  _ Harry opened the door and stepped out, walking to where Cedric leaned against the wall. 

Cedric turned immediately, staring at him intently, almost as if he was trying to reassure himself Harry was still alive. 

“Harry,” Cedric’s voice was barely a whisper. 

“Cedric,” Harry bit his lip. “Uh...I’m sorry.”

“For?” 

_ Everything.  _

“For dragging you into my life, Cedric,” Harry finally said, leaning against the wall next to the older student for support. “You’re in danger the longer we’re close. I’m sorry,” His voice broke then, a shuddering sob tearing it’s way out his chest. “For everything. You should just go now.” 

“Harry…” Cedric trailed off, his arm jerking as if he wanted to reach out and lay a hand on Harry’s shoulder, then retreating when Harry visibly flinched. “You think it’s dangerous for me to be close to you?” 

“It  _ is  _ dangerous!” Harry growled, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I told you Cedric, trouble finds me. I’m not normal...I don’t get to have normal friendship, relationships. You do. You should. I don’t. Just go Cedric.” 

“You’ve been avoiding me…” He continued slowly, “Because you think you can protect me like this?” 

Harry nodded glumly, not wanting to admit the rest of the truth. Cedric already understood the overarching truth, the rest seemed somewhat irrelevant after that point. Now it was done, and he braced himself for Cedric to walk away. 

Except he didn’t. 

Cedric crossed the distance between them in two deliberate strides, almost appearing to fly as his robes billowed around him. Harry instinctually moved to avoid him, taking a faltering step backward, but the older boy was quicker and stronger. 

Gripping Harry’s shoulders tightly, he stared deep into his eyes, “Harry. Stop it.  _ Please _ . Your life is worth protecting too.” 

_ Is it? _

Weakly he shook his head, clenching his eyes shut to hold back the tears, “No…” 

_ Yes? _

“Yes,” Cedric’s voice was almost a growl. “I have been worried sick about you Harry! Stop doing this to me. Please, it hurts. When are you going to get off your bloody high horse and accept that people want to be here for you too? I care about you...I care about you a lot. Please don’t push me out.” 

Harry hesitated, his heart burning with the effort of staying silent, staying still. If not for Cedric’s firm grip on his shoulders he would have bolted again, refusing to face it again. 

“I don’t want you to get hurt because of me Cedric.” 

_ I don’t want you to die for me too.  _

“So you just push me away?” Cedric’s voice was growing a desperate edge, “That hurts too, perhaps even more, because I might not be there if you need me. It’s not your choice to make Harry. You don’t get to make that decision for me.” 

Harry trembled, quaking like a young tree in a storm, struggling to breath as he was met with the honest concern and care of the older boy. He couldn’t ignore it. Sirius and Remus were in too deep to push away. Ron and Hermione were in too deep to push away. 

And so was Cedric. 

So when Cedric’s arm pulled him close, Harry didn’t pull away. He leaned into the support, accepted it gratefully for everything that it was. 


	8. Both Of Us

**Chapter 8: Both Of Us**

Weeks passed in a flurry of activity. Between Hermione and Cedric, who were both determined, it seemed, to teach Harry veritable compendiums of spells, he barely had a spare moment. He found it was easier to deal with unwanted romantic feelings when he had the friendship, and the tournament, to distract him. 

The nightmares didn’t stop, but then again, they hadn’t stopped all year. In his dreams now Vernon beat him for his  _ queerness _ , and he woke up trying not to vomit. With the threat of Voldemort growing the nightmares grew in turn, taking on a darker, horrible edge. In his dreams they, everyone he cared about, died and he was too slow to save them...

Harry was eternally thankful for the silencing charms he learned First Year. 

Everything Harry saw in the Pensieve, nearly everything Dumbledore had told and shown him, and every suspicion he had about his dreams and the Crouch family he told Ron, Hermione, Cedric, Remus and Sirius. All of them were appropriate levels of concerned and terrified. They talked at great length about it, and Harry was never quite sure if the conversations left him feeling relieved or more worried. Cedric’s response, of which Hermione and Remus heartily approved, was to march into the restricted section for advanced Defense books. 

The mood in the castle as they entered June was thick with excitement and tense expectation. Everyone was looking forward to the third task, which would take place a week before the end of term. Everyone, caught up in the novelty and energy, failed to miss the growing look of apprehension on Harry and Cedric’s faces. Harry felt, at the same time, more confident and more worried about this task. 

Sirius and Remus were sending daily owls then. Like Hermione and Cedric they emphasized that the most important task to concentrate was the maze. Before they concerned themselves with anything else, especially anything going on outside the wall of Hogwarts, they had to overcome the tournament. 

Still, in spite of the stress as June the twenty-fourth grew closer, Harry found himself truly smiling and laughing often. Cedric seemed to be able to sense his mood intuitively, and understood better than anyone exactly what he was feeling. 

For better or worse, he reasoned, it would all be over soon. They had reached the final hurdle. 

On the eve of the Third Task, directly following dinner in the boisterous Great Hall, Harry found himself pulled by Cedric into an old classroom, away from the crowds of people that had hounded them all week long. Harry felt the knot of tension between his shoulder blades relax, ever so slightly. The presence of the older boy still gave him butterflies like he couldn’t believe, but there was a solid comfort in Cedric he couldn’t find anywhere else. 

Harry watched Cedric stand silently for a moment, both of them gazing at each other at a loss for words. Silvery light from Cedric’s wand illuminated the room, casting their features with soft lines and shadows. Looking at him there, Harry had a strong urge to lean in...to reach up and…

_ No.  _ He forced himself to turn away before he did something he regretted, something the other boy would never forgive him for. With a grimace he settled in a chair, lacing his fingers together tightly to keep them from shaking. 

“Harry?” Cedric’s voice, followed by a hand on his shoulder as he sat down in the chair beside Harry, was tentative. 

_ Tender,  _ even. 

“Cedric,” He replied, forcing himself to meet Cedric’s gaze. 

“Alright?” 

“Yeah,” Harry bit his lip, “You?” 

He nodded, “Alright.” 

Silence reigned between them for long moments, neither of them looking away. Harry could almost feel unspoken words, hanging thickly in the dusty air of the classroom. There was so much he wished he could say, could attempt to make him understand. There was so much to be afraid of saying. There was so much he wished he had the courage to tell him anyways. 

_ Cedric… _

And he wondered in that moment if that was what it felt like to fall in love. He wondered because in that moment the very  _ idea _ of love finally made sense, like it never had before. 

Abruptly, some immeasurable amount of time later, he found himself standing up, being pulled into Cedric’s embrace. He melted into it, the comfort of human touch sending shivers down the lengths of every nerve in his body. Cedric held him closely, tightly, almost desperately, Harry’s head tucked beneath his chin and Cedric’s fingers tangled into Harry’s hair. 

“Promise me you won’t die Harry,” He said finally, earnestly, as he broke apart to meet Harry’s eyes. 

_ Unless I have to...better me than you... _

Harry nodded, “I promise Cedric. Now promise me the same.” 

“I promise Harry.” 

* * *

On the eve of the Third Task, directly following dinner in the boisterous, Cedric sought out Harry and pulled him into an empty classroom. He knew neither of them had much time alone from the crowds, and he knew from the knot of anxiety in his stomach how Harry must be feeling. Thought of the next day plagued Cedric; he worried for his younger friend. His thoughts raced to every worst outcome…

Cedric watched Harry silently for a moment, at a loss for words as he studied his features. The light from his wand illuminated the room, casting the younger boy’s features in soft lines. As he looked upon him he had the strongest urge, and it hurt something within his soul to hold back. 

If he could, he would have leaned in, pulled the younger boy close, reached down tenderly and caressed the side of his head with his hand. He would have pressed his lips against Harry’s, would have kissed him with every fiber of his being, if he only had the courage. 

Harry appeared for just a moment to lean forward, then rocked backwards with an abrupt movement. Grimacing the younger boy settled in a chair, lacing his fingers together tightly. It didn’t hide the tremors from Cedric. 

Belatedly, he realized Harry wasn’t the only one shaking. Every horrible outcome, every horror of his worst nightmares, plagued his thoughts. The thought of Harry not surviving, of living in a world devoid of his bright, green, brilliant gaze, was intolerable. 

Cedric had found since he entered the tournament that it was difficult to come to terms with his own mortality. Cedric had found since befriending Harry Potter that it was impossible to come to terms with the mortality of those he loved. 

“Harry?” He found himself reaching for Harry, needing to reassure himself he was still there. 

“Cedric.” 

_ I care so deeply it hurts. You’re afraid. I’m terrified.  _

“Alright?” 

“Yeah, you?” 

Cedric managed a nodd, “Alright.” 

He didn’t look away in the silence, he studied Harry’s features intently, as if this might possibly be the last time he ever saw him. He wanted to say everything, resolved he  _ had _ to say everything, eventually, but knew with certainty this wasn’t the moment. 

_ Harry… _

_ I love you.  _

Suddenly the space between them, ever centimeter separate them, was too much to bear. He stood up, pulled Harry close to his chest. He could feel the trembling of nerves gathered in his arms and knew he was shaking just as badly. Cedric inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar scent of earth and peppermint that surrounded Harry, tucking the younger boy’s head beneath his chin. 

He broke apart only to meet Harry’s eyes, “Promise me you won’t die, Harry.” 

“I promise Cedric. Now promise me the same.” 

“I promise, Harry.” 

_ Unless it is to protect you... _

* * *

Breakfast was a noisy affair on the day of the task, and the Hufflepuff table demanded Cedric’s attention that morning. He managed to shoot Harry a reassuring look about the Skeeter article, and Harry could see the anger hidden in the older boy’s gaze. That, having people who cared, made it easier to ignore Malfoy’s taunts. 

Just then, Professor McGonagall came walking alongside the Gryffindor table, straight toward them, “Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast.” 

Harry, struck with a certain dred that he’d accidentally mistaken the time, blanched, “But the task’s not till tonight!” 

“I am aware of that, Potter,” she said. “The champions’ families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them.” 

She moved away, Harry gaped at her. 

“She…” Harry turned to Hermione and Ron, aware of the anxiety, the fear, building in his chest, “She doesn’t expect the Dursleys to turn up, does she?” 

Harry didn’t finish his breakfast really, just pushed it around his plate as people streamed out, including Hermione and Ron. He saw Fleur get up from the Ravenclaw table and cross to the side chamber; Krum slouched off shortly after to join her. Harry didn’t move. 

There was one of two things lying in wait for him in that room. The first, improbable but terrifying, was that the Dursleys actually were there. Harry gulped, shivering as he thought of the scars that laced his back. The second, more likely, was that there simply was no one there for him. He didn’t have a family, not anyone who would care to show up. 

But just as he was getting up, thinking he might as well retreat to the library, Cedric walked over and grabbed his shoulder, “Harry, come on, they’re waiting for you!” 

Struck with the thought of walking into an empty room, Harry was left with an even deeper sense of foreboding at the older boy’s approach. If anyone still had suspicions about his homelife, outside the Weasleys and Hermione, it was Cedric. How in the world would he explain that? 

How in the world would he explain the Dursleys if they  _ were _ there? 

“Cedric…” Harry trailed off. 

Cedric offered him a hand, helping to his feet, “Gryffindor bravery, Harry. Come on, trust me.” 

Left with no other path, Harry followed him. Cedric grinned as they entered, retreating to join his mother. Viktor Krum was over in a corner, conversing with his dark-haired parents in rapid Bulgarian. On the other side of the room, Fleur jabbered away in French to her mother and little sister. She waved at Harry, who waved back, somewhat forlorn. Then his eyes landed on Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Remus all standing in front of the fireplace, beaming at him. 

“Surprise!” Mrs. Wesley said excitedly as he smiled broadly, from ear to ear, and walked over to them. “Thought we’d come and watch you, Harry!” she bent down and kissed him on the cheek. 

Harry turned to Remus next, who surprised him by pulling him to a brief, but firm, hug. “You all right?” He asked, holding his shoulders tightly. “Padfoot wanted to come but I told him no, sorry Harry.” 

He smiled softly, “Thanks for keeping him safe. It’s serious business keeping him safe. I’m alright.” 

Bill grinned as he shook Harry’s hand firmly, “Charlie wanted to come, but couldn’t get time off. He said you were incredible against the Horntail.” 

“This is really nice of you,” Harry muttered to the three of them, “I thought...for a moment...the Dursleys…” 

“Hmm,” Mrs. Wesley pursed her lips tightly. She had always refrained from openly criticizing them, but something dark flashed in both her and Remus’ gaze. 

“Lily and James should be here,” Remus said softly, returning his hands to Harry’s shoulders. “They would be so proud of you Harry. And we are so proud to be here for you. You have people who care a great deal about you.” 

_ But they’re not here.  _

Harry found himself glancing over to Cedric, ignoring the twinge of jealousy as he looked at the others and their parents. Amos Diggory seemed to take notice of them at that moment and walked over, Cedric trailing behind. 

“There you are, are you?” He said, looking Harry up and down. “Bet you’re not feeling quite so full of yourself now Cedric’s caught you up on points, are you?” 

Harry stared at him, his stomach turning queasy, “What?” 

“Ignore him,” Cedric said in a firm voice, scowling after his father. “He’s been angry ever since Rita Skeeter’s articles about the Triwizard Tournament, you know, when she made out you were the only Hogwarts champion. I don’t know why he cares.” He finished, with a pointed glance at his father. 

“Didn’t bother to correct her, though, did he?” Amos Diggory continued, loudly enough enough for Harry to fear as he started to walk away with the Weasleys. “Still...you’ll show him, Ced. Beaten him once before, haven’t you?” 

Cedric rounded on his father, his hands tightening into white knuckled fists, “Dad, please, leave him alone. Harry’s been through a lot.” A little jolt of warmth blossomed in Harry’s heart as Cedric defended him, quickly swamped by a wave of guilt for coming between him and his father. 

“Friends with him, are you now? Harry, is it?” 

“Yes, dad, we’re friends. I explained this,” Cedric seemed to be gritting his teeth to keep himself restrained. 

“Hmpf,” Cedric’s father turned away dismissively. “See what I get for standing up for our boy,” He muttered to Cedric’s mother. 

“Sorry about that,” Cedric said, turning and walking a distance away with Harry. “Wish you could see a better side of him Harry.” 

“That’s okay,” Harry smiled softly. “Families can be tough.” 

Harry had a very enjoyable morning walking over the sunny grounds with Bill, Mrs. Weasley, and Remus, showing them the Beauxbatons carriage and the Durmstrang ship. Mrs. Wesley was intrigued by the Whomping Willow, which had been planted after he left school. Remus and Harry shared a pointed, if regretful look. The truth about Sirius was still unspoken to the majority of the Weasley family. 

Lunch was a boisterous affair and Dinner a raucous one, and Harry found himself surrounded quickly in a sea of red heads. Harry had such a good time it almost felt as though he were back at the Burrow; he found himself forgetting to worry too greatly about the third task. Remus, not wanting to risk crowds, regretfully had to leave, but Harry found his spirits lifted by the people that surrounded him. 

They walked onto the Quidditch field, which was rendered completely unrecognizable. A twenty-foot-high hedge ran all the way around the edge of it. There was a gap right in front of them: the entrance to the maze. The passage beyond it was dark, holding shadows and gloom.

The stands began to fill and with the people the air filled with the sound of excited voices and rumbling of feet. The sky was a deep, clear blue, and in the haze the first few stars were beginning to appear. Hagrid, Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick came walking into the stadium and approached Bagman and the champions. They explained how to call for help with the red sparks and then they were off, Hagrid offering a quick good luck to Harry. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand!” Harry heard Bagman only distantly, as if through a great haze. The points didn’t seem to matter at all anymore, theoretically any of them could win. Not that winning was even close to his first priority. 

Harry could just make out Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, and Hermonione, halfway up the stands. He waved at them, smiling as they waved back, beaming at him. 

“So...on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!” Bagman announced, jolting him back to the present. “Three...two...one!” 

With a short, shrill blast of the whistle, Harry and Cedric hurried forward. The towering hedges cast black shadows across the path, and behind them they grew to close off the entrance. In the maze, with no path left but forward, the night suddenly seemed much darker. Silence, the sounds of the crowd muffled by the hedges, descended on them. Harry felt as though the darkness almost had a physical presence, pushing in on them from every angle. He pulled out his wand, muttered, “ _ Lumos, _ ” and heard Cedric do the same just behind them. 

They walked along for about fifty yards, at which point they met a fork, and turned to each other. 

“Suppose this is where we part,” Harry grimaced. 

Cedric nodded, pulling him into a tight hug. This surprised Harry, but he was suddenly very grateful for the hug, for the feeling of safety it gave him, if only for a passing moment. “Don’t die...don’t die Harry. Please.” 

“I won’t,” Harry said as they broke apart. “So you don’t either.” 

Cedric flashed a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, “I’m not the one trouble hunts like a bloodhound.” 

“See you,” Harry said, turning left. 

“See you,” Cedric echoed, turning right. 

And into the maze they went. 

* * *

Cedric picked up his pace to a run, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the Blast-Ended Skrewts. The sleeve of his robe was smoking, part of his arm twinged painfully, but he couldn’t find the energy to really care. He felt shaken, and wondered distantly how Harry was faring. 

He didn’t have to wonder long. Rounding a corner he found himself walking into the light of Harry’s  _ Lumos _ , and felt a bit of anxiety leave him as he saw that Harry looked mostly untouched. “Hagrid’s Blast-Ended Skrewts!” He hissed. “They’re enormous--I only just got away!” 

Quickly they parted again, taking separate paths deeper into the maze. Cedric remembered advice given to him once about mazes, to put your hand on the wall of the maze and eventually find your way out. Somehow he didn’t think that would quit work here, the hedges, he was sure now, could change, and he hardly had the time to travel the length of the maze. 

He didn’t see much sign of life until he ran into Krum, and he was almost relieved, until the other champion started throwing curses at him. 

“What are you doing?” Cedric yelled, dodging a blast of spellfire. “What the hell d’you think you’re doing?” 

The next curse caught him before he could dodge. 

_ “Cucio!”  _

Cedric could not hold back the scream that escaped him as his knees buckled and he fell to the ground. It was pain unlike anything he had ever experienced, like someone had set the end of his nerves on fire. He writhed and twitched in agony, knowing it had only been a handful of seconds, but feeling dreadfully certain it had been hours…

Untill, suddenly, it stopped. 

_ “Stupefy!”  _ He recognized the voice, only dimly, as Harry. 

Cedric lay there panting, his hand over his face, as Harry ran over to him. 

“Cedric!” Harry exclaimed, roughly grabbing his arm, “Are you all right?” There was genuine, deep, concern in the younger boy’s eyes, and Cedric could only be glad it was him and not Harry who had run into Krum. 

The thought of the young boy  _ ever  _ having to experience something as horrible as that would haunt his nightmares, he was certain. 

“Yeah…” He panted, gasping for even breath. “Yeah...hey, I’m alright, really…” 

He trailed off as Harry abruptly pulled him into a tight hug. The force of it took him back for a moment, startled him, but he found himself leaning into the embrace gratefully. Where Harry’s body brushed against his own the tremors of the curse seemed to subside slightly, as if healing under the touch. 

“When…” Harry’s voice broke slightly. “When you screamed I thought...I was so...afraid Cedric.” 

Cedric pushed his way to his feet, helping Harry, sensing in this moment Harry was the one mostly likely to actually keel over without support, “Hey,” He said slightly, gripping the younger boy’s shoulder’s firmly. “I’m okay. We’ve got to get moving.” 

Harry glanced over at the prone figure of Krum’s body, “What happened?” 

“I heard him, turned around, and he had his wand on me…” Cedric found himself leaning against Harry as much as Harry leaned against him as the last of the tremors subsided. 

“I can’t believe this, I thought he was alright.” 

Cedric grimaced, “So did I.” 

They resolved to send up red sparks for Krum, not willing to leave him to the mercy of the skrewts. Cedric reluctantly parted from Harry again, wanting to protest that he didn’t even care about the outcome of the tournament. He told himself he must have imagined the flash of regret in Harry’s eyes…

When he finally spotted the ghostly blue light of the cup, his feet suddenly ground to an abrupt stop. There it was, the thing every moment of the year had led to. It seemed so surreal, for it to just be there, waiting to be taken. Within a second he began to run, pelting forward at a frantic sprint…

“Cedric!” Harry bellowed. “On your left!” 

_ Oh?  _

He turned with just a fraction of a section to spare, barely managing to hurl himself past something massive and moving. In his haste he tripped, his wand flying uselessly out of his hand. The gigantic spider stepped into the path, into the gloomy light, and began to bear down upon Cedric. 

_ Ah. That.  _

_ “Stupefy!”  _ Harry yelled frantically, for all the good it did.  _ “Stupefy! Impedimenta! Stupefy!”  _ The younger boy’s voice sounded downright panicked at that moment. His spells, however, did little good other than to diver the creature’s attention. Eight shining black eyes and a pair of razor-sharp pincers turned in a flash, bearing down on Harry in an instead. 

Cedric watched in horror as he was lifted into the air, struggling madly, kicking, obviously in pain. With a grunt he reached his wand. He quickly yelled,  _ “Supefy!”  _ too, again and again, but it had no effect than Harry’s--it was not until Harry waved his wand and shouted,  _ “Expelliarmus!”  _ anything happened. 

Harry fell twelve feet, Cedric heartbeats too slow to catch him. He let out a cry of distress as Harry’s legs crumpled beneath him, but neither of them had much time to sit and think. Without pausing, Cedric aimed high at the spider’s underbelly, Harry unspokenly following suit. 

The two spells combined did what one alone had not: the spider keeled over sideways, flattening a nearby hedge, and blocking the path. Cedric barely noticed, turning immediately to Harry. 

“Harry!” He shouted. “You all right? Did it fall on you?” 

“No,” Harry managed, panting for breath and favoring one of his legs with a pained grimace, “I’ll live.” He leaned against the hedge, his body shaking with the effort of standing, and Cedric found himself moving quickly to support him. So together they made their way down the remainder of the passage, Cedric supporting Harry. 

“So…” He trailed off, looking at the cup before them. “This is it.” 

Harry nodded, slipping away from Cedric to stand tall. “Take it.” 

Cedric hesitated, part of him wanting desperately to reach out and grab the cup...to return basking in glory...in the cheers of the crowd...in his father’s proud gaze...to feel the validation of triumphant success overcome his every anxiety…

And then he turned to look at Harry, and all that desire abruptly fled. Harry, who flung himself into danger for others at a moment’s notice. Harry, who saw the best in people. Harry, who’s smile lit up the room. Harry, who’s determination could move mountains. Harry...who didn’t have proud parents to return to…

“No,” Cedric said flatly. “You take it. You should win. That’s twice you’ve saved my neck in here.” 

Harry shot him an annoyed glance, “That’s not how this is supposed to work, Cedric! I wouldn’t have made it halfway through this maze without you and Hermione.” The younger boy scowled, a look that was not particularly intimidating on his face. “The one who reached the cup first gets the points. That’s you. I hardly would have made it down the trail without you.” 

Cedric held up his hands away from the cup defiantly, “No.” 

“Stop being noble,” Harry snapped. “Just take it, then we can get out of here. We both survived right? We’re alive, that’s all I bloody care about.” 

“And that’s all I care about too!” Cedric exclaimed, moving to support the younger boy if his leg buckled, earning him annoyed glare. “Harry, take the cup. Please.” 

“No Cedric!” Harry growled in frustration. “I do  _ not  _ need anymore attention in my life.” 

“You deserve it.” 

“You deserve it!” 

“You earned it.” 

“I had help throughout all of this,” Harry sighed deeply. “Without your help...and Sirius and Hermione and Ron and Remus and everyone, I wouldn’t have made it through. I’m not strong...not like you.” 

Cedric rested a hand on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze, “No, Harry, you’re not strong like me,” he smiled slightly. “You’re stronger.” 

Harry was silent for a long moment, staring at him with a look of utter incredulity. Finally, as if reaching a deep decision about something important, he nodded to himself. 

“Both of us,” He said. 

“What?” 

“We’ll take it at the same time. It’s still a Hogwarts victory. Shouldn’t have had two champions anyways. We’ll tie for it.” 

“You…” Cedric studied Harry’s face for a moment. “You’re sure?” 

“Yeah,” Harry said, firmer. “Yeah..we’ve helped each other out, haven’t we? We’re friends. We got here together. Let’s...let’s finish this together.” 

Cedric hesitated, then let his face split open into a wide grin, “You’re on.” 

They both reached out a hand over one of the cup’s gleaming handles, their free arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders for support. 

“On three, right?” Harry said. “One...two...three..” 

Cedric and Harry both grasped a handle. 

Instantly, Cedric felt a familiar jerk behind his naval. His feet had left the ground. He could not unclench his hand holding the Triwizard Cup; it was pulling him onwards in a howl of wind and swirling color. 

All he could do was hold on tighter to Harry at his side. 


	9. Something To Live For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm...sorry...

**Chapter 9: Something to Live For**

Harry felt his feet slam into the ground; his injured leg gave out underneath him and he would have fallen forward if Cedric had not quickly caught him. His hand let go of the Triwizard cup and it fell to the ground, landing with a soft thud. Finally, he raised his head. 

“Where are we?” 

Cedric shook his head, letting Harry stand on his own as he looked around. 

They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; they had obviously traveled miles...perhaps hundreds of miles...for even the mountains that surrounded the castle were gone. In the absence of those mountains, familiar natural walls that kept the school safe in their little valley, Harry felt strangely exposed and vulnerable. They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose to their left, on which he could just make out the outline of a house. 

Cedric glanced between the cup and Harry, “Did anyone tell  _ you _ the cup was a Portkey?” 

“Nope,” Harry said, looking around the eerily silent graveyard. He grimaced. “And I don’t think this is meant to be part of the tasks...Cedric…” 

“Wands out d’you reckon?” 

Harry nodded. They pulled out their wands, standing back to back instinctively. He had, yet again, the feeling they were being watched. 

“Someone’s coming…” 

Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves. Harry couldn’t make out a face, but from the way it was walking and holding its arms, he could tell that it was carrying something. A bundle or robes...or perhaps a baby? 

Harry glanced sideways at Cedric, who shot him back a quizzical look, and they both turned back to warily watch the approaching figure. 

And then, without warning, Harry’s scar exploded with pain. It was agony he had never felt in all his life; his wand slipped useless from his hands. His knees buckled and Cedric caught him but they both were pulled to the ground. 

“Run!” Harry managed to shout, gritting his teeth with pain. 

_ “Kill the spare.”  _

A swishing noise and second voice, which screeched the words to the night:  _ “Avada Kedavra!”  _

A blast of green light blazed through Harry’s eyelids, illuminated the graveyard like a lightning bolt in a storm. It would have struck Cedric in the chest had he not moved when Harry told him, as it was, it crashed into the marble headstone behind him. 

Then they were both on their feet, Cedric forcing him to get up despite the pain, shouting he wasn’t allowed to die yet...but he stumbled and fell, his legs buckling underneath him...and Cedric was sent crashing forward based on pure momentum…

_ “Expelliarmus!”  _ Cedric’s voice roared, but the round was distant, far away... 

Harry forced his eyes open then, watched as spellfire flashed through the air as Cedric furiously dueled with the cloaked figure. He was struggling to hold his own, scampering between gravestones blasted apart, killing curses following his every move. 

It was only a matter of time. 

Cedric was exhausted, injured, and rapidly failing…

Harry reached desperately for his own wand, fighting the agony to crawl towards his only weapon. Before he could manage it more shouts echoed into the night, forcing him to turn and watch the fight again. 

Cedric jumped from one to gravestone and another, red light flashing from his wand as he did, but his ankles caught on the ground and twisted, tossing him to the ground. At the same time another green flash left the figure’s wand, ripped through the air...towards Cedric, who had landed on the front side of a gravestone. 

For a desperate moment, Harry held out hope that the curse had struck the gravestone...not Cedric...because from that distance he could not see for certain. He held out for frantic heartbeats for Cedric to move, to roll and come up fighting. 

But Cedric did not get up, and Harry was forced to confront the truth. 

“Cedric!” Harry cried out into the night, forgetting himself and shoving to his feet to take several, faltering steps forward. For a second that lasted an eternity Harry stared at Cedric’s body, which lay crumbled against the side of the grave.

Cedric lay inert, not even twitching. 

He was dead. 

“Cedric…” His voice caught on the words. 

_ Oh Merlin...please...no…please..you...you promised...no...NO! IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE YOU! _

Harry fell to his knees, not able to continue, a shuddering sob tearing its way out of his throat. Every worst fear, ever apprehension about their friendship...had come true. This was Harry’s fault, he knew, he should have been strong enough to protect Cedric...to push him away...

And then, before Harry’s mind had actually accepted what he was seeing, before he could feel anything but denial and numb horror, he felt himself being pulled to his feet. 

The short man in the cloak had put down his bundle, lit his wand, and was dragging Harry towards the marble headstone, away from Cedric. He didn’t have the strength left to fight, and distantly realized tears were streaking paths down the grime on his face. Harry saw the name etched into the marble in the flickering wandlight before he was forced around and slammed against it, painfully. . 

**TOM RIDDLE**

The cloaked man turned to conjuring tight cords around Harry, tying him from neck to ankles to the headstone. Harry could hear shallow, fast breathing from the depths of the hood; he struggled, and the man hit him--struck him with a hand that had a finger missing. 

“You!” Harry snarled at Wormtail. “You fucking bastard!” 

But Wormtail, who had finished with the ropes, did not reply. His fingers, calloused and knobbly, trembled uncontrollably, fumbled with the knots. Seemingly satisfied, Wormtail drew a length of some black material from the inside of his cloak and stuffed it roughly into Harry’s mouth. Without a word he turned from Harry and hurried away, beyond where Harry could see. 

Cedric’s body was lying some thirty feet from him. Farther away lay the Triwizard Cup, glinting in the starlight. Harry’s wand was somewhere in between. Cedric…

Harry wanted to cry, to scream and shout and enact some horrible revenge, but he could not. He was trapped, bound, helpless in his own grief. His muscles strained against the tight bonds as he shook, the cords steadily rubbing his skin raw. 

Some horrible, empty, gaping wound, was opening in his heart, in his soul. 

It felt like part of him had  _ died _ . Because, in a way, part of him had. 

The bundle of robes that Harry had thought was a baby was close by, as the foot of the grave, stirring fretfully, restlessly. Harry watched it, and his scar seared once again with pain...and he suddenly knew he didn’t want to see what those robes contained…

He was helpless. It was like being a small child again, pounding against the door of a dark closet, terrified from a nightmare...being dragged by someone far stronger, choked, beaten, thrown...helpless...weak...

Wormtail was beginning some horrible, dark ritual, the great snake was slithering through the grass around the bubbling cauldron, and Harry could do nothing but watch. The creature wrapped in the robes, which Harry desperately wished would drown, was hideous, disfigured, and looked incapable of being truly alive. 

Wormtail was speaking, calling forth bones from the grave below him that crumbled to dust and fell into the potion. Wormtail was whimpering, gripping a silvery dagger with resolve and cutting off his own hand. Wormtail was moaning in agony, turning to Harry with the knife, ripping open a long jagged gash of pain along his arm…

And Cedric was lying still, crumpled against the gravestone...devoid of life..

And Harry was helpless, straining against the bonds and receiving only more pain... 

And there were tears swimming in Harry’s eyes...

He watched, with an icy surge of terror, as the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rose slowly from the cauldron. The man, if he could be considered one, was robed by his servant in black, the darkness of shadows falling upon him like it belonged. And when he turned to Harry, staring into his eyes, boring into his skull with that horrible gaze…...those horrible  _ red _ eyes...Harry stared back into the face that haunted his nightmares for three years, the face of the creature that killed all he loved in his dreams…

Lord Voldemort had risen again. 

Harry, helpless, watched as Voldemort looked away from him and began examining his own body. He called upon his followers, the death eaters, and a scene played out before Harry that  _ belonged  _ only in nightmares. The death eaters groveled at his feet, and he tortured them for it…

When Voldemort turned his attention back to Harry he could barely listen as he talked. He stared off into the distance listlessly, his eyes having cleared of tears, and felt a dull pain settling in his chest, a hole ripping open in his soul…

Voldemort moved slowly forward and faced him, raising his wand. Something that could have been a smile on another creature split his face. 

_ “Crucio!”  _

It was pain beyond anything Harry had ever experienced; his very bones were surely on fire; his head was surely splintering along his scar; his eyes were rolling back into his head; he wanted it to end...to black out...to die…

And when he thought of death in the midst of his agony, Harry considered, truly, for the moment what that meant. The Dursleys had been token Christians, he supposed they believed in an afterlife. Wizards knew certainly death was not the end...but what was there? What did  _ Harry  _ believe? 

If a Heaven existed, what could it possibly be?

And when Harry, his eyes screwed shut in agony, cared to imagine Heaven, he imagined a door…a door he opened…

_ And when he opened it, there would be Cedric…Cedric...always Cedric…I love you...Why, why did you leave me? I need you...I still love you...I love you... _

He would have begged for death, if he could. 

Unseen by Harry, light began to gather at his left wrist…shining like the  _ Lumos _ spell...

He cried out in pain, the sound muffled against the gag. Voldemort summoned it with a wave of his hand, seemingly delighting in the sound of Harry’s scream. And he did scream, lacking the will it would have taken not to. 

And then it was gone, and he was left hanging limply in the ropes binding him to the headstone of Voldemort’s father, looking up into those horrible red eyes through a kind of haze. The night was ringing with the sound of Death Eaters’ laughter. 

Voldemort gilded forward, raised a skeletal hand...and ran it slowly down the side of Harry’s head. The touch felt like a physical wound, burning, searing as it caressed his skin. Abruptly it moved to his wrist, some of the bindings moving away…He tore back the sleeve of Harry’s shirt, revealing what was emblazoned across his skin the wake of the light...

A celtic knot, beautifully interwoven with itself. A symbol of life, of renewal, of things that lasted for eternity and never more...of rivers that flowed in endless circles...of promises that lasted until the day all stars fell from the sky...of eternal love…or love that lasted even beyond death...

And there, inscribed within that symbol, were two letters, done in flowing...familiar script…

The handwriting of a boy who penned letters, worrying about him, over the summer.The handwriting of a boy who left comments on their homework, always catching errors and encouraging. The handwriting of a Hufflepuff with an incredible amount of courage, and an infinite amount of kindness. 

Part of his soul  _ had  _ died that night. And he’d never felt so utterly alone. 

Harry cried, watched as Lord Voldemort considered the mark with a look of steady consideration, then turned to him, flinging the arm away, “You’re weak, Potter.” He smiled, a thin, horrible smile. “You will die too, like your parents. Soulmates!” The Death Eaters joined in his jeering laughter. “For all the good it did them. Ridiculous.” Voldemort walked a step away, raised his wand again. Thorns grew from the black ropes like they were vines, piercing his skin in hundreds of places. He whimpered, but could not scream. “I'm going to kill you. Beg, Harry Potter, for mercy.” 

The handwriting of a boy who fought to the very end. 

And suddenly Harry wanted nothing more than to make Lord Voldemort angry, to inflict some wound, any wound he could. So he spat out the only words that came to mind, his voice hoarse and pained. 

“Fuck off, Tom.” 

_ “Crucio!”  _

He fought against the bindings, the curse causing him to writhe in agony, but if anything they tightened, constricting, rubbing his flesh raw…time ceased to hold any relevance to Harry. He screamed and fought, for all the good it did him. He cried, for all the good tears would do anyone. 

But in his agony this time, even as it stretched on longer and longer than before, Harry did not even begin to consider begging for death. He closed his eyes and pictured the knot, the symbol, the letters…he focused on the memory of a boy who fought to the very end…

_ You’re wrong,  _ he thought, somewhere in his mind.  _ You’re the weak ones. We have something to fight for...something to die for...something to live for... _

When they released the ropes, Harry fell to the ground, much to their amusement. His injured leg shook violently as he forced himself to stand and put his weight on it, blood seeped from his wounds in sticky rivulets. The Death Eaters closed ranks around them, forming a veritable wall. Wormtail pressed Harry’s wand into his hands and he had to consciously force his fingers to close around it. Distantly he felt the pain, but forced himself to shove it aside, into a tight box. 

“You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?” Voldemort said softly, the red of his eyes glinting in the darkness. 

Harry almost laughed as his thoughts flitted back to a memory, a memory that felt so foreign as to belong to a different life entirely, of the dueling club Second Year. What good would that do him now? The disarming spell...something told him nothing about a lack of a wand would stop Voldemort from hurting him...from killing him..

He was just a kid. 

And that didn’t mean a damn thing for the mercy he would receive. 

“We bow to each other, Harry,” said Voldemort, bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face turned to Harry. “Come, the niceties must be observed...Dumbledore would like you to show manners...Bow to Death, Harry…” 

Harry did not bow. He stood as straight as possible, stared down the man in front of him with a steady gaze, turned his chin up. He thought of his father, of his mother...of Cedric...and took strength, as though he could feel their strength holding his body upright, like some strange puppet. 

“I said,  _ bow,”  _ Voldemort said, raising his wand. Harry felt a great force bear down on his spine, bending it, and he was sure he could feel each individual vertebrae as they exploded with pain...The Death Eaters laughed even harder. 

“Very good,” said Voldemort softly, and as he raised his wand the pressure bearing down on him lifted. “And now you face me, like a man...straight-backed and proud, the way your father died…” 

“And now...we duel...” 

Voldemort raised his wand, and before Harry could do anything to defend himself, before he could even move, he had been hit again by the Cruciatus Curse. He fell to the ground, writhing and twitching freely in agony, screaming louder than he ever had before. White-hot knives were piercing open his skin…it was agony...

It lasted some indeterminable amount of time, for time at that point was a meaningless measure. It had to have been as long as the first two put together, and when it stopped, it was just as abrupt. He lay there for a moment, twitching, and finally forced himself to stand through sheer will power. 

When the Imperious curse settled on him, invading his thoughts, it was a such a sudden reprieve from the pain Harry was almost grateful for it. Ah, it was bliss, not to think, as if he were floating in a great cloud...Voldemort wanted him to say no, to beg for any release from that...horrible pain. 

_ Just answer no… _

No. 

Harry’s mind rebelled, fought the influence of the worse with every fiber of his being, and threw it off. 

“I WON’T!” 

Those words burst forth from his mouth like they had a physical presence, echoing through the graveyard. The dreamlike state of the curse was gone and it was as though someone had thrown cold water over him, and he was left trembling, shaking, the aches left by the Cruciatus Curse returning in an instant…

Harry  _ fought.  _

Harry fought like his parents had, like Cedric had. And when he finally faced Lord Voldemort again, he stood tall. He was going to die standing upright, fighting. There was some value in that, surely? In facing death with courage, not the absence of fear but the will to overcome it, even when there was surely no hope…

Voldemort was ready. As Harry shouted,  _ “Expelliarmus!”  _ Voldemort cried,  _ “Avada Kedavra!”  _

Light exploded in the graveyard. A jet of green and a jet of red met midair, and Harry had to hold on with both hands to hold his wand steady, but he couldn’t have released it if he wanted to. And then they began to lift into the air, the light connecting their wands gleaming a deep gold…

It splintered, though the wands remained connected, a thousand more beams arched high over their heads, crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web, a cage of light, beyond which Death Eaters circled like Hyenas. 

And then the sound of song, of  _ phoenix song _ , split open the air. Harry cried then, such a pure, brilliant sound so wrong in a world...in a world without him…without Cedric...Cedric...

_ Don’t break the connection.  _

I know. 

Screams echoed, in sharp contrast to the song, coming from Voldemort’s wand. Figures began to emerge from the light, ghosts or shades of people that had once lived. Victims...people the wand had hurt, had tortured, had killed…his parents were suddenly there, still fighting, still protecting him, even beyond death...

But Cedric Diggory was not among the ghosts that emerged from Voldemort’s wand. 


	10. Promises Kept

**Chapter 10: Promises Kept**

Cedric came back to consciousness slowly, opening his eyes with a soft groan. A dull throb of pain assaulted his temples with every heartbeat, radiating out from where his head had struck the ground. He was lying on his side, his head twisted skyward. Above him he could see the night sky...pinpricks of light in a sea of darkness…

There was cold, horrible laughter nearby. It echoed throughout the graveyard, seemed to linger in the night air with a malevolent presence. It sent shivers of fear and dread coursing down Cedric’s spin, terror unlike anything he had ever felt before…

There was a terrible darkness in the graveyard that night: not the kind of darkness that could be seen with the eyes alone. Cedric felt his magic recoil from it, felt his soul turn cold with hopelessness, felt every instinct in his body scream to run. It loomed, a shadow that would have turned the brightest summer day’s into pitch black night. 

Cedric forced himself, through sheer power of will, to turn his head, and his heart sank in horror at what he beheld. 

They were not alone in the graveyard, far from it--they were outnumbered. Figures cloaked in black robes stood in a rough circle, surrounding a man...a creature...that seemed to personify death. They worshipped the figure like a god, grovelled at its feet like slaves. It’s skin was pale, eerily illuminated in the moonlight, drawn over an emancipated frame that appeared to be little more than a skeleton. It turned and Cedric caught a glimpse of blood-red eyes, flashing for just a moment. 

_You-Know-Who. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The Dark Lord. Lord Voldemort._

He returned. 

Cedric had wanted to believe it couldn’t possibly be true. The signs, for months now, had told them this was coming. They should have pushed harder, _he_ should have pushed harder to get someone to listen, to do something--anything. But Cedric hadn’t wanted to believe it, because what that would mean for Harry terrified him deeper than any personal mortal peril he might encounter. 

_Harry!_

And there was Harry, gagged and bound to a headstone, helplessly struggling. In pain. 

Every fiber of Cedric’s being told him to rush forward, to run to the younger boy and save him, but he could not. Cedric had no illusions about what would happen then--he would die, and Harry would be left alone. His heart breaking, Cedric forced his hand to seize around the shaft of his wand, forced his body to move, forced himself to slip away, into the shadows...into the relative safety behind the gravestones...out of sight…

_“Crucio!”_

Muffled cries of pain left Harry, the Death Eaters _laughed,_ and Cedric bit his lip to keep himself from crying out to Harry or moving. His fists tightened, his fingernails cutting painfully into his palm. Memories of the handful of seconds he had spent under that curse, cast by someone still in school, swamped him. _That_ had been agony, _that_ had been unbearable, and this...

This was Lord Voldemort. 

A second later the screams started, Harry freed of whatever they had gagged him with. Cedric clasped his hand over his mouth tightly, tears flowing down from his eyes in steady rivulets. Every scream sent daggers into his heart...into his very soul. If it would have spared Harry that pain Cedric would have given his life in a second. 

Unconsciously he began to count, needing something, anything, to measure the passage of time by. 

Lord Voldemort was torturing Harry. 

_Harry._

The youngest seeker in a century. The boy who went to save the philosopher’s stone, who faced Voldemort as just a First Year. The boy who went to save Ginny Weasley from the Chamber, who fought Basilisk. The boy who had every member of his family, his _family_ , torn away from him. The boy who took every pain, every weight, upon himself to spare others. The boy forced to compete in a tournament of death. 

The Boy-Who-Lived. The heroic Gryffindor. The incredible friend. 

Harry. 

_Just Harry._

_We’re going to die, Harry..._ Cedric thought to himself, forcing himself to listen to the younger boy's screams, to bear witness to his pain... _We’re both going to break our promises…_

_I love you so much it hurts…_

The simple truth. Three words that had weighed heavy on his heart for months now. A truth he wanted desperately to tell Harry, time and time again, until he could never forget it…

I love you. 

_I will_ always _love you._

Light gathered, wisps of it appeared in the shadows of the grave like tiny spectral fireflies. They floated around him, swirled around him, and traveled to his left wrist, pooling together there. It shone brightly for a brilliant moment, like a _Lumos_ attached to his wrist…

And the air was still split by the screams of Harry’s agony, and Cedric was sure each cry of pain was sending physical daggers into his heart...into his soul…The screams stopped abruptly, replaced by soft moans of pain. It had been longer than a minute...

The light cleared, leaving a strange mirage momentarily imprinted on to his sight. Cedric stared for a moment at his wrist, at what had appeared in the wake of the light there…

A celtic knot in black ink, a triquetra, interwoven with an unbroken circle. A symbol of perpetual, neverending love and life, interwoven with a symbol of eternity. And there, inscribed within that symbol, were two letters...written in familiar handwriting...

_HP_

Cedric cried, muffling his sobs on his robe. The words of Lord Voldemort echoed hollowly across the graveyard, taunting Harry, ridiculing Harry…

And then Harry’s voice, hoarse with pain but still strong, still proud, still defiant. 

“Fuck off, Tom.” 

_“Crucio!”_

Cedric flinched, as if he could feel the pain himself. If he could have taken the pain on himself to spare Harry, he would have. The soulmark on his wrist was still warm, almost pulsating with the feeling of being alive...Harry’s screams filled the night…the other half of Cedric’s soul was in agony...

Cedric began to count. It was longer this time, several minutes. He didn’t know how Harry could even be _alive_ after that, and yet...with every fiber of his being...he prayed Harry would have the strength to survive…

_Please Harry. I need you. I love you. We have to endure._

Harry fell to the ground when they severed his bindings, trembling, unable for several moments to stand on his own. Once again Cedric was compelled to rush toward, to hold him safe in his arms, and once again he forced himself to stay still. He needed to wait, to bide his time for the right moment. He had to reach Harry and summon the cup to them, that was the only way they would survive. 

And, glancing down at the symbol inscribed on his wrist, Cedric was _determined_ to survive. 

“You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?” Voldemort’s words were soft, he strained to hear them. “We bow to each other, Harry, come, the niceties must be observed...Dumbledore would like you to show manners...Bow to Death, Harry…” 

_Fight him, Harry. Be brave, Harry. Survive, Harry._

_Please._

Cedric watched on, caught in his helplessness, as Harry stood tall. He stood with the weight of the world on his shoulders and bore it, he faced the darkness of the world _and stared it down defiantly._ He was incredible, strong beyond what any fourteen year old should ever have to be…

“I said, _bow,_ ” Harry whimpered with pain as the dark wizard forced him to yield. “Very good,” said Voldemort softly, as he lifted the pressure on Harry. “And now you face me, like a man...straight-backed and proud, the way your father died…” 

“And now...we duel...” 

Before Cedric could think or react, before he could brace himself for what was going to happen, Voldemort cast the Cruciatus Curse, again. He watched as Harry crumpled, falling to the ground, writhing and twitching, screaming…

And he forced himself to count, to remain sane if only for Harry’s sake, because Harry _needed_ him to be there when the moment was right. It was a long, long time, far too long. A handful of minutes at least, the longest minutes of Cedric’s life. 

He watched Harry _fight._ What was the strength of his will, that he could deny the Imperious curse against _Lord Voldemort?_ What was the strength of his magic, that he could hold his own against _Lord Voldemort?_

Cedric realized in that moment exactly how little the wizarding world really knew about Harry, and how much he still needed to learn. 

_“Expelliarmus!”_

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

An explosion of light blossomed in the graveyard, momentarily banishing the shadows. Green and red met midair and turned golden, Harry fighting with every fiber of his being against Lord Voldemort. The light splintered, though the wands remained connected, covering them in a dome. Cedric braced himself to run, standing up to sprint forward, ignoring any physical pain he felt, knowing the moment was close. 

Song split the night. Such a pure sound, in cacophonous contrast to the earlier screams…Cedric willed Harry to hold on with every fiber of his soul... 

Don’t break the connection.

_I know._

Screams, followed closely by ghostly figures emerged from Voldemort's wand, swirling around the battle. And when they swarmed Voldemort, Cedric leapt forward. 

Cedric caught Harry as he fell, held him desperately tight to his chest as the younger boy went limp with exhaustion. A pair of brilliantly green eyes stared up at him, brimming with a sea of unshed tears and emotions. 

_“ACCIO CUP!”_ He bellowed, pointing his wand towards where it lay. 

“STUN THEM!” 

Red flashes of spell fire converged on them. Cedric shouted, _“Protego!”_ without thinking and a bubble of blue light surrounded them, humming with a strength he had never been able to find for any shield he cast before…

The cup flew through the air towards them, and Cedric’s hand closed around the handle as he held Harry close. He heard Voldemort’s scream of gury at the same moment he felt the jerk behind his navel that meant the Portkey had worked. 

They were going back. 

* * *

Cedric felt himself flat into the ground and, without thinking about it, he twisted to catch Harry as they landed, to bear the brunt of the impact. For a moment, he was completely still. His breath had been knocked out of him, the world seemed to be spinning around them. A torrent of sound...a cheering crowd...defended and attacked them from every side…Cedric opened blinking eyes, looking around. 

They had come back to the edge of the maze. They were _safe._

The cup fell numbly from Cedric’s hands, landing with a dull thud. To hold himself steady he clutched all the tighter to Harry, pulling Harry close to his chest, wrapping his arms protectively around him. The younger boy was trembling...the aftertemors of the Cruciatus Curse racking his body…

The pain, the dull aches that screamed in every muscle of his body, that he had pushed aside with a surge of adrenaline came flowing back. And everything that had happened rushed into Cedric’s memory. 

“Oh...Harry...Harry…” Cedric murmured, tucking Harry’s head beneath his chin, holding him close, cradling him gently in his arms. His fingers began to card through Harry’s hair, he rubbed small circles into his back, desperate to provide some, any, form of comfort after the nightmare they had endured. He had suffered much more than any person should. “Harry we’re safe now. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. We’re safe.” 

_I’m so sorry…_

Belatedly, he realized he was crying too, silent tears running down his face. 

“Cedric…” Harry whispered, his voice hoarse and muffled against Cedric’s chest. The younger boy’s fists tightened, clutching desperately at Cedric’s shirt. Broken, small sobs of relief began to tear their way out of Harry’s chest, “I thought you were…” 

“I know,” Cedric said, softly rocking them. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I’m here now. I’m never letting go again.” 

Cedric sighed, burying his face against Harry’s hair and breathing in his familiar scent...earth and peppermint...marred by the coppery scent of drying blood...trying desperately to reassure them both that this was real. Thoughts of what Harry had endured, of who he had fought and stood up against too for so long, were nothing short of horrifying. There was no rational reaction to that nightmare. 

All he could do was hold Harry close. 

The crowd was pressing in then, Cedric could feel the ground beneath them reverberating with their footsteps. A pair of hands gently seized his shoulders, someone tried to pull him away, he held tighter and the pull relented. He looked up from Harry to see Albus Dumbledore crouching over them.

“Cedric! Harry?” 

Cedric was at a loss for words. 

“He’s back,” Harry whispered, the side of his head resting limply on Cedric’s chest. “He’s back. Voldemort.” 

Cedric shuddered. When Dumbledore met his eyes, he could only nodd. 

“What’s going on? What’s happened? Dumbledore, are they alright?” 

The face of Cornelius Fudge appeared next to Dumbledore, looking pudgy and confused. Cedric was suddenly struck with an overwhelming surge of rage. 

_You! You didn’t do_ anything _to prevent this…_

“Merlin, Dumbledore, what’s happened to them?” 

Dumbledore’s voice grew very grave, “Something far more horrible than should ever have occurred on this night, I’m afraid,” He turned back to them, his eyes meeting Cedric’s. “Come on now, Cedric, you cannot stay here forever.” 

Numbly Cedric nodded and rose to his feet-- still holding onto Harry, who Cedric was positive might collapse without the support. “Come on Harry,” He said softly, low enough that only they could hear. “Back to the castle...hospital wing…I’m here...” 

Someone, whether it was Dumbledore or Fudge or someone else entirely Cedric couldn’t tell and didn’t particularly care, was trying to pull them apart. Something about his family. Harry, standing with Dumbledore, made a weak sound of protest, of pain, and Cedric roughly pulled away from the foreign hands to get back to him. He held to him tightly and Harry leaned against the embrace. 

“No!” He growled, glaring, with a bit of surprise, at the face of Professor Moody. “I’m not leaving him.” 

“Lad, you both look half dead.” 

“Cedric…” Dumbledore’s voice was kind, but he wasn’t listening to any of it. “Your family…” 

“No,” He repeated, abruptly shoving out his left wrist. They blinked in surprise, staring at the initials and Celtic knot with understanding. “I won’t leave him. You _cannot_ make me.” 

Dumbledore nodded solemnly, “It’s alright Professor Moody, I do believe Harry is in good hands. We will tell the Diggorys to meet them in the Hospital Wing...” 

The Defense professor grunted in surrender but Cedric barely heard it, leading Harry through the murmuring crowd. The look in Cedric’s eyes, or something in his demeanor, left little room for argument when he shouted at them to move. He walked them, almost mechanically, back to the castle. Cedric ignored every ache and protest of his exhausted body, knowing that whatever pain he was feeling was nothing compared to what Harry had endured. It seemed to take both an eternity before they were back at the Hospital Wing, but they made it. 

Madam Pompfrey was there in a heartbeat, helping him shepherd Harry to a bed. Harry made a weak sound of protest as they seperated and Cedric murmured assurances, holding tightly to Harry’s hand as he settled in a chair. There was crimson on the white of the sheets, he belatedly realized, Harry’s blood. 

There was Gryffindor red staining Cedric’s hands. 

Cedric stared, feeling utterly useless as Madam Pompfrey bustled about. Harry stared too, blankly, back at him. Both of them were struggling to comprehend, their minds working overtime to catch up with their emotions. 

Somewhere, logically, Cedric understood what the soulmarks meant. He was nowhere close to his emotions catching up. 

Harry had dozens of small puncture wounds torn into his shoulders, arms, and legs. He had a long gash on his arm that refused to respond to most of the healing spells. His leg was broken, splintered from the fall with the spider. A tapestry of cuts and bruises covered his skin...overlapping older scars...since when did Harry have so many scars? 

And tremors wracked him with every shaking breath he took. 

“How long Mr. Diggory?” Madam Pomfrey finally asked, looking at the final potion of the many she had gathered. 

“Sorry?” 

“How long was he held under the Cruciatus Curse?” 

Cedric flinched, the memory of Harry’s screams echoing at the back of his mind, “Overall or per...per session?” 

The Mediwitch gave him a sad look, “Overall.” She answered softly. 

“Uh…” Cedric swallowed. “About..ten...ten minutes I think?” 

She nodded grimly, measuring out an amount of the blue liquid in a small goblet. Cedric helped Harry sit up again to drink it, spluttering slightly. It didn’t really seem to help. 

“Can’t you do something more for him?” He demanded hoarsely as Madam Pomfrey turned her attention away from Harry. Cedric shrugged her off as she began to try to examine him.“He’s...he’s in pain…” 

“I’m afraid there’s only so much potions can do Mr. Diggory. Are you hurt?” 

He shook his head, “No, I’m not. He is.” 

“Mr. Diggory, Mr. Potter will in no way be helped by your resistance to medical aid.” 

Cedric grimaced, then nodded, looking away, “Hit my head pretty bad.” 

Madam Pomfrey nodded, taking up her wand and performing a variety of spells and pushing more potions into his hands to drink. Finally, she gestured across the room, “Very well, you can take the bed over here…” 

“No,” Cedric repeated, staring back at her. “I’m not leaving him.” 

_Human contact helps,_ he thought, distantly remembering how Harry had pulled him into a hug after Krum...Merlin, that felt like a lifetime and a half ago...

Wordlessly Cedric rose from the chair, sliding Harry over with a few whispered words of assurance, and lay down next to him. Madam Pomfrey made a small noise of disapproval, sighed, and then relented, walking away. He scooted closer, though the small bed didn’t leave them with much room, and drew Harry’s back against his chest. He wrapped an arm around the younger boy protectively, hooked the edge of his foot over Harry’s leg, and interlaced their fingers tightly. Harry leaned against him, resting his head on Cedric’s shoulder. 

“I thought...Cedric...you were gone…” Harry’s voice shook as sobs wracked his small frame again. 

Cedric could feel the fear in the younger boy’s voice, and understood on a deep level _exactly_ how horrible that must have felt. If Harry died before him, he was sure he wouldn’t have the strength to survive it. 

“Shh…” Cedric whispered, squeezing the smaller hand held in his own. “I’m here Harry. We’re alive. We’re safe. You did so good Harry. You’re so brave, so strong. Just rest now.”

“Wasn’t brave,” Harry muttered. “I was so scared, Cedric. I just didn’t want to...didn’t want to die without fighting...had to fight...like you did…” 

_You did so much more than I could have..._

“You did,” Cedric said softly. “You fought, Harry. Now rest. It’s okay now. Just rest.” 

For a period of time they were silent, Harry shaking, Cedric holding him close. Silence was enough. It was enough to just be there, to take in each other’s presence, to be alive together. Hermione and Ron came by at one point to see Harry, seemed relieved to see Cedric with him. 

“Cedric?” Harry said finally, the whisper of his voice shaking. 

“Yeah, Harry?” 

Harry gave Cedric’s hand a weak squeeze, “We survived. You kept your promise.” 

And Cedric was sure his heart was going to burst right out of his chest. 

Pressing a small, soft kiss to the top of Harry’s head, Cedric murmured back, “You kept yours.”


	11. Testor Ego Amorem Perpetuum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Testor Ego Amorem Perpetuum," Latin, "I Swear Love Forever."

**Chapter 11: Testor Ego Amorem Perpetuum**

Harry drifted off into a light sleep, warm and safe in Cedric’s arms...the arms of his soulmate. Something about that, the comfort of it, the security of it, kept his dreams from wandering into the darkness. He rested peacefully, knowing that soon they would have to face the world again, but content for the moment to just be held. 

His body ached all over with pain, only somewhat numbed by the potions Madam Pomfrey had given him. Distantly he realized his glamours had probably failed at point...they never seemed to hold up around powerful magic...and he was so tired...but he couldn’t find the energy to truly care...

When he woke up he was not alone with Cedric. Mad-Eye Moody was looming over the beside, staring intently at Harry. Before Harry had a chance to say anything, to even move, he found himself caught in a Full Body-Bind curse. His limbs snapped to his side, frozen in place, pulling him away from Cedric’s arms. Cedric stirred, but with another wave of Moody’s wand, didn’t wake. 

And Harry was struck, all at once, with what he should have remembered right away. 

There was still a Death Eater at Hogwarts. 

And once again, he found himself utterly helpless. Moody levitated him, dragged him along, and for all his fighting, Harry could not move. He could not lash out. He could not scream for help. He could not even cry, though his chest constricted with the urge to. He wanted to be back in the Hospital Wing, safe, cradled in Cedric’s arms…

Moody bound him to a chair in his office, the door slamming and locking behind them. If Harry could have he would have shaken with fear, as it was his heart steadily beat a frantic rhythm in his ears. 

_ Not again...please...not again… _

“What happened boy?” Moody demanded roughly, leaning over him and releasing the curse. 

Harry stared at him, “Sir?” 

“The Dark Lord was there? He got his body back? He’s returned?” His face was split by a toothy, terrifying, grin and there was something...dark in his eyes Harry had never seen before. “Was it glorious?” 

Harry felt a deep cold sink into his chest, almost like a Dementor was near. 

He was terrified. Desperately he thought of Cedric, wished he could call out to him…

_ Cedric…Cedric! _

The only word for the events of the night was horrific, but he held his tongue as a train of thought began to form in his head. 

_ Moody set the cup. Moody did this. Moody nearly killed us.  _

And all at once his fear was swept away, replaced by seething anger. 

“It was pathetic,” He said flatly. “Voldemort, sorry,  _ Tom  _ was pathetic.” 

Moody roughly shoved the chair against the wall, sending a jolt of pain through Harry’s aching, trembling body, “What gives you the right to speak  _ his  _ name? Watch your tongue boy.” 

Harry glared, letting anger overtake him as they talked, because in the absence of anger he wasn’t sure exactly  _ what  _ he was going to feel. And he didn’t survive Voldemort to turn into a sniveling ball of fear in front of one of his followers. 

“When are you going to lose the mask?” Harry gritted his teeth, tensing his muscles against the tight bonds of the chair, and tried to turn his scowl into a sneer. “Barty Crouch Jr.” 

Barty Crouch didn’t even seem to hear him, “The Dark Lord didn’t manage to kill you, Potter, and he  _ so  _ wanted to,” He whispered. “Imagine how he will reward me when he finds I have done it for him. I gave him to you, and now I will kill you. I will be honored beyond all other Death Eaters. I will be his dearest..his closest supporter...closer than a son…” 

“For all the good that will do you,” Harry spat. “I saw how he treated his followers. Tell me, does it make you powerful to lick his boots, to grovel beneath him? Does it make you powerful to laugh at the pain of a kid? You’re the weak ones.” 

He rounded on Harry abruptly, looking away from the foe-glass, “You talk too much,  _ boy.  _ It’s time you learned from respect.” Crouch drew his wand, pointed it at his chest, and Harry knew before he spoke the curse he was going to cast. There was no bracing for it. 

_ “Crucio!”  _

He didn’t want to give Crouch the satisfaction of hearing his screams. He didn’t have much of a choice. The screams seemed to tear their way out of his already sore throat and there was no stopping them. The curse seemed to light his body on fire. 

Distantly, someone else was shouting, pounding on the door. The pain abruptly stopped, leaving him shaking and sagging in the restraints on the chair. Crouch turned to the door in surprise. His mind snapped to focus as the voice continued...Cedric’s voice…

“Harry!” Cedric's shout was nearly a scream, and it seemed to echo distantly in the hallway leading to the door. “He’s in here! Somebody! Anybody, help me, please!  _ Alohomora! Alohomora!  _ Merlin, somebody, please! Ah, fuck!  _ Bombarda Maxima!”  _

There was a blinding flash of light, and with a great splintering and crashing, the door of Moody’s office was blasted apart, throwing Crouch backwards onto the floor. Cedric leapt into the room, his wand in hand,  _ “Stupefy!”  _ and a jet of red spellfire struck Crouch in the chest. 

Harry blinked, not able to believe it for a moment. Albus Dumbledore, Professor Snape, and Professor McGonagall appeared a moment later, standing in the doorway, staring in shock. There was rage in Dumbledore’s gaze as he looked at the unconscious form of Mad-Eye Moody, rage Harry prayed he never found himself at the receiving end of. Power seemed to radiate from him, as if he gave of physical, burning heat. 

Professor McGonagall turned to Cedric, who was bracing his hand on his knees, gasping for breath, “Mr. Diggory! What on Earth did you think you were doing, running off like that? Why didn’t you wait?”

Cedric scowled, standing straight and pointing at Harry, “I was just supposed to wait?!” He roared. “Just sit there in the Hospital Wing after I woke up, alone?!” He gestured helplessly at his wrist, at the dark black ink of the soulmark. “I woke up alone…” 

Belatedly, Harry realized Cedric was crying, staring at him. His face was contorted with an unrecognizable sea of emotions, almost as if he was in physical pain. The professors were left speechless. 

“Cedric…” Harry said softly. “I’m okay.” 

Cedric swallowed and hurried over to him, furiously working to release him from the bonds of the chair. “Like hell you are,” He snarled. 

Harry found himself pulled into Cedric’s arms the second the ropes came loose. He was shaking again, the tremors of the curse lingering in his nerves, but with Cedric’s presence the pain slowly began to fade. In a heartbeat he felt himself to cry, the love he felt for the older boy suddenly overflowing from him in waves of emotion. 

“Shh…” Cedric said softly, his face buried in Harry’s hair. “Deep breaths Harry. You’re safe. I’ve got you,” The sobs wracked his body, his tears turning the front of Cedric’s shirt damp. Over and over again Cedric murmured soft reassurances, reassurances they both needed in that moment. “You’re safe,” He repeated, pressing a soft kiss to Harry’s forehead as his sobs finally began to subside. 

With Cedric’s help, Harry managed to stand. Dumbledore ushered them along to his office, despite Cedric’s protests that Harry needed to rest. 

Sirius was there, pacing. When he saw them, standing up only with each other’s support, he rushed over, pulling them both into a hug that was surprisingly strong for someone so thin. Talking about what happened, his memories forcing him to relieve the events in his head, was something Harry was not sure he would have survived without Sirius and Cedric there. 

Fudge didn’t want to listen to them. Harry found he wasn’t surprised; he recognized the look in the man’s eyes. It was fear. 

When he finally let them go, Harry was ready to pass out at any moment. He struggled to stand on his own in the privacy stall of the Hospital Wing, and for a moment, found himself staring at his bare torso in the mirror. 

So many scars, covered with a tapestry of new cuts and bruises. The scars from the Dursleys still sent waves of shame through his emotions. However, looking down at the black ink on his left wrist, he managed to smile, softly. 

_ We survived.  _

Harry, dressed in soft cotton Hospital Wing Pajamas, fell asleep pressed against Cedric’s warm chest, a large, shaggy black dog curled on the bed at their feet. Nightmares had crawled out of the darkness and into their reality, all they could do was hold close to each other. 

* * *

Cedric woke up before Harry, relieved to find he wasn’t alone this time. He watched Harry, illuminated in the light of the morning sun streaming through the windows, for a peaceful moment. In sleep he looked so peaceful, so relaxed, so...young. 

It was all too easy to forget Harry’s age sometimes. He didn’t carry himself like most fourteen-year-olds. He’d been through more than any fourteen-year-old, any adult wizard for that matter, should have to. Yet he remained strong. He was...wholly unique. 

But Cedric was increasingly aware that the events of the past four years hadn’t left Harry unscathed. He was only human. He put on a brave face, went about like it was nothing. But he was holding the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

Perhaps that was why it was so easy to forget his age sometimes. Now, relaxed in sleep, Cedric could see echoes of the innocence that should have never been ripped away from the younger boy. He was...cute. Adorable even, small as he was for his age. 

Cedric smiled to himself, pressing a kiss into Harry’s hair. He swore to himself, in that moment, he was going to spend the rest of his life protecting Harry. Even if it killed him, it was a worthy cause to live for. He had no mistaken thoughts about the future; with Voldmort back, and the Minister refusing to see the truth, Cedric could almost feel the tension gathering. 

But, brushing his hand against the thin cotton covering Harry’s back, Cedric noticed something else he hadn’t before. Scars. The skin of Harry’s back was raised and tough, a latticework of old wounds. Someone had beat him, struck him with a belt or a cane, repeatedly. Part of the shirt of his pajamas had pulled up in his sleep, revealing the scars reached down his entire back. 

Horror twisted in Cedric’s stomach as he sat up, alarmed. Some of those scars were years old, covered by fresher scars. He couldn’t say for sure how young the newest were. He stared at Harry for a moment, wanting to cry and rage at the same time. Then it struck him. 

_ The Dursleys.  _

And suddenly everything made sense. Harry’s lack of self worth. Harry’s instinctually flinching. Harry’s tendency to scan rooms for exists. Harry’s inclination to always put a wall to his back. Harry’s anxiety. Harry’s reluctance to talk about them, at all. 

_ The Dursleys hurt him.  _

Abruptly Cedric stood and marched over to the bathroom to change, grabbing a set of fresh robes that had been left on one of the chairs. He then went over to the nightstand next to their bed, searched desperately for something to write a note with. At some point Sirius had left, leaving two letters behind. One for Harry, and one for Cedric. 

Pausing for a moment, Cedric opened his letter. 

_ Cedric-- I wish I could have stayed. Dumbledore insisted I needed to be moving, couldn’t risk it with all the Ministry workers hanging around. I have a feeling, however, that we shall be seeing each other soon this summer. I hate that I can’t be there for Harry like I should, especially now. Voldemort is back. I don’t know how much you know about the last war Cedric, but it’s about to get bad. Harry needs us now, needs you now. I know I can trust you to protect him Cedric, I know the depth of love it takes to create a soulmark. Please...keep him safe. I can’t lose him too.  _

His hands shaking, Cedric stuffed the letter into a pocket of his robes with resolve.  _ I will.  _ Leaving a hasty note to Harry, hating to leave him alone even for a moment but knowing this was a conversation that could not wait, Cedric stormed out of the Hospital Wing. 

“Cockroach Cluster!” he growled at the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster’s Tower. Never before had he been more glad Prefects were told the password for the office. He stood rigidly on the stone staircase as it rose, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. 

The door opened when he knocked. 

Professor Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, staring Cedric down his half-moon spectacles. He was silent for a moment, as if studying the rage that contorted Cedric’s face, and then he sighed, waving to the chair on the other side of the desk. 

“I can see there is something to be discussed between us, Cedric.” 

He nodded, sitting stiffly in the chair. Then, meeting the Professor’s gaze, all words died in his throat. 

“Sherbert lemon?” Dumbledore gestured to the bowl on the desk. 

Cedric shook his head jerkily, looking away towards the floor, biting his lip, “Professor…” 

“Cedric.” 

“Tell me you didn’t know,” He said finally, his voice flat as he turned to meet Dumbledore’s eyes with his own. “Because you’re his acting Magical Guardian, aren’t you? You put him with the Dursleys,” He couldn’t have stopped the vehemence in his voice if he tried. “Tell me you didn’t know.” 

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, suddenly looking much older, “I had someone keeping an eye on him...she suspected he wasn’t happy. But no, judging from your reaction, there is some vital part of the truth I have missed, yet again.” 

Cedric scowled at him, “Did you ever even  _ think  _ to check in on him yourself? Professor Dumbledore...it looked like he’d been  _ whipped _ . I couldn’t tell where one scar ended and the next began. For years. The Durlseys hurt him.” He spat the words at the headmaster, taking some gratification when the old man flinched. 

Because part of him did blame the headmaster. 

“Cedric…” He heaved a long sigh. “There are things Harry, and I suspect you, as his soulmate, will need to understand in time with Voldemort’s return. I sought to keep him safe Cedric. All I have ever done is sought to keep him safe.” 

Cedric stood abruptly, his hands tightening on the edge of the desk, “Safe?! They hurt him! Do you think he was ever loved, ever cared for there?! Do you ever wonder why he doesn’t eat much? Do you ever wonder why he’s so small for his age?” 

“There is little we can do Cedric,” The Headmaster leaned forward slightly. “And, as much as it may anger you to hear this, Harry must return to Private Drive this summer. It is, in light of recent events, imperative that he does.” 

Cedric stared at Dumbledore for a long moment, searching his appearance for any indication he wasn’t being sincere. He found none. 

“No.” His voice was flat. 

“Cedric, do you have any idea how Harry survived the first time Voldemort tried to kill him?” Dumbledore met his gaze steadily. “Harry’s mother, Lily, refused to step aside. She sacrificed herself for him, Cedric. Love,” He gestured towards Cedric’s wrist. “Is a powerful magic, Cedric. Lily’s blood courses through Petunia Dursley’s veins. As long as Harry can call Private Drive a home, he has powerful protection there, protection beyond what I can give him anywhere else.” 

Cedric felt Dumbledore’s words and the truth behind them, and he hated it, “How can he call that place a home?” He finally asked, barely a whisper. 

“I will know in an instant if the wards fail,” Dumbledore said, not unkindly. “We will be moving Harry from their care come his birthday. In the meantime we must do what we can. Go to Harry now, talk to him,” Cedric walked away, not trusting himself to speak. “And Cedric,” He paused. “A war is coming. In the future I may ask a great deal of you, all to protect Harry.” 

Stiffly, he nodded. 

* * *

When Cedric walked back into the Hospital Wing he found his mother and father waiting, both looking anxious with worry. He felt a brief pang of regret--between taking care of Harry, rescuing him, and talking with Dumbledore he hadn’t had a chance to do much more than give them both a brief hug. It passed quickly though, Harry needed him. 

“Dad, Mom…” Cedric trailed off, leaning into their embrace gratefully for a moment. 

Sitting down across from him, his father’s face turned to a scowl, “Ced, what happened?” 

So Cedric explained the bear bones of the truth, knowing he didn’t have the strength to speak certain parts out loud yet. His parents stared at him, their faces turning pale. 

“That…” His mother leaned back as he finished, explaining finally how the Defense professor had been a Death Eater in disguise. 

“That’s impossible!” His father finished. 

Cedric shook his head, “No, dad, it isn’t. I saw it with my own eyes. If you trust me...believe it.” 

They were silent for a long moment. Then his father turned, glowering at the still sleeping form of Harry, “Always knew he was trouble,” Cedric flinched, hearing the anger in his father’s voice. Amos stood, crossing his arms, “Almost got you killed!” 

“No, dad!” Cedric stood so quickly his chair was flung backwards. “That’s not how...that’s hardly the point! If anything, he saved me. I would have died if he didn’t warn me...” 

“He’s dangerous Ced!” His father scowled, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be hanging around him. What  _ The Prophet _ says about him isn’t good--I don’t want you dragged down with him.” 

“NO!” Cedric, realized, distantly, that he was truly shouting at his father for the first time. 

“You almost got killed! This boy is nothing but trouble.” 

“I would gladly die a thousand times to protect him,” Cedric said, his voice low and flat. “Harry is  _ so _ much more than trouble. He is kind and brave and incredible  _ and I love him _ .” 

His parents were both taken aback by the earnesty of his words. His father blinked, staring at him in confusion, “Ced...I thought...I thought this was a phase you’d grown out of…”

Angered beyond anything words could convey, Cedric shoved his wrist towards him. Again, his parents were speechless, “Harry’s gone through more than either of you could ever comprehend. He needs me, and I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Ced…” 

Cedric marched over to Harry’s bedside, sitting down and reaching for the younger boy’s hand, “No, dad. Unless you wish to apologize, I don’t want to hear anything from you right now. Get out.” 

“Son…” 

“Amos…” 

“Get out.” 

* * *

Harry opened his eyes to see Cedric, sitting in fresh robes in the chair beside his bed. One of his hands was holding Harry’s, their finger interlaced. At the sight of him Harry felt so deeply in love it was almost enough to start crying all over again. 

“Morning Harry,” Cedric said weakly. 

Harry sat up, noticing the worry in his soulmate’s voice, “Cedric? What’s wrong?” 

Cedric looked at him for a long moment, then stood and moved next to him on the bed, pulling him into a hug. Harry didn’t protest, settling comfortably against Cedric’s chest with a sigh of relief. He felt Cedric press a kiss to his forehead, something he distantly realized Cedric had done before, and felt little explosions of warmth coursing through him at the touch. 

“Harry…” He trailed off. “I saw...I saw the scars...on your back,” His voice was a shaky whisper. 

Harry stiffened, his stomach knotting in anxiety. Somehow he didn’t have the energy to deny it anymore, and it seemed so strange to return to an old worry after everything that happened. 

“Oh,” He swallowed. “That.” 

“I’m so sorry Harry,” Cedric’s voice was muffled, catching in his throat. 

“It’s okay.” 

“It’s really not,” Cedric reached over slowly, brushing hair across Harry’s forehead. “You have so many scars Harry. For everything that’s happened to you...I’m so sorry. I would give the world to change things. All I can do is...be here. And that’s not enough.” 

Harry settled against Cedric’s shoulder with a sigh, wrapping his own arms tighter around the older boy, “No, Cedric, it is enough.” 

“I’m here,” Cedric held him close and he let himself be content in the feeling of safety.

“They’re not as bad as they used to be…” Harry trailed off, wanting to take away Cedric’s worry.

He grimaced, “Do they still hit you?” 

Harry hesitated for a heartbeat. A lie hurt so much less than the truth. 

“No.” 

“It’s still not okay.” 

“I know.” 

“I’m getting you out of there,” Cedric said softly, his voice earnest. “Dumbledore wants you to stay until your birthday. I’m going to fight for you to leave sooner.” 

They stayed there together for some time. Madam Pompfrey eventually came over, but not, as Cedric had expected, to bring either of them potions. Instead, she carried two bright, red strips of cloth. Wordlessly she pressed them into Cedric’s hands, covering his hand with her own and giving him a reassuring smile, before walking away. Harry and Cedric sat on the bed, looking at the red cloth for a moment. 

“I...I don’t get it,” Harry said finally, frowning a bit. “Why  _ do  _ we cover them?” 

Cedric shrugged, “Well, we don’t necessarily have to. But...this...it’s between us. No one else gets to pressure us in any way, especially until we decide what... _ this _ is. It comes with a promise between us, of er, love, no matter what. And with...everything going on, it might be a good idea not to publicly broadcast the truth.” 

Slowly, Harry nodded, picking up one of the pieces of cloth, “Alright. Let’s do this then.” 

Cedric smiled, taking the other piece of cloth and reaching for Harry’s wrist with his other hand. Harry relaxed into Cedric’s touch, letting him take control of his arm. Cedric looped the cloth around Harry’s wrist several times, covering the mark, then tied it off with a sticking charm. And then, surprising Harry, he lifted Harry’s wrist and bent to press a soft kiss against the cloth. Shivers ran up Harry’s arm, straight to his heart. 

_ “Testor ego amorem perpetuum” _ Cedric incanted solemnly. 

Harry shivered, feeling old magic settling around them, coursing through the bond. The edges of the red cloth glowed for a moment with white light, then settled, fading. 

Repeating the process, Harry tied the red cloth around Cedric’s wrist. He couldn’t have stopped the smile that split his face as he met Cedric’s eyes if he wanted to, and brought his own lips to meet Cedric’s wrist. 

_ “Testor ego amorem perpetuum.”  _


	12. I Have All I Need

**Chapter 12: I Have All I Need**

“Son.” 

Cedric turned as footsteps approached them. He was sitting with Harry, both of them in fresh robes, waiting for Madam Pomfrey’s final release from the Hospital Wing. Various people had come to visit them throughout the day, until it seemed they had seen most of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor house at one point or another. But Cedric’s parents hadn’t shown up again. 

Until now. 

“Dad,” Cedric couldn’t meet his father’s gaze, too terrified of the disapproval he might find there. Harry’s grip on his arm tightened, in a way that was both reassuring and protective. 

“Ced,” His father sank into a chair across from them, running his fingers through his hair and suddenly looking like a much older man. “I’m sorry.” 

Cedric looked up in surprise, “You are?” 

He nodded, and Cedric’s mother sat down beside him, “We are, Cedric. To both of you. We should have been happy for you, supportive. But we...we were scared, Cedric. You almost died.” 

“...what changed?” 

“Dumbledore talked to us,” Cedric’s father admitted. “There’s a war growing. And it still terrifies me, but fear isn’t going to change it. I’m going to fight it, I don’t want to lose you to that violence. And I refuse to lose you to my own fear. I’m not a Gryffindor for nothing. We’re in this fight now, whether we want to be or not. We’re stronger together.” 

Slowly, Cedric felt himself smile and move to embrace his parents, trying desperately not to cry. 

Breaking apart, his mother gestured to Harry, who had sat by somewhat awkwardly, “Well, Cedric, I think you have someone you should introduce us to, properly.”

* * *

Madam Pomfrey gave them clearance to leave the Hospital Wing for a bit, but Cedric and Harry found themselves at a bit of a loss for what to do. The Leaving Feast would be the following evening, and both of them needed to pack, but the thought of dealing with other people or leaving each other wasn’t quite bearable yet. So, as in the distance the sun was slowly reaching to kiss the horizon and turn the sky golden, they found themselves wandering. 

Cedric was struck by the desire to reach out to Harry about every heartbeat, to put an arm around his shoulders, or brush the hair from his forehead, or interlace their fingers, or lean in and...but he restrained himself. He felt a responsibility resting on his shoulders as the older person to not pressure Harry into anything. 

He wasn’t sure quite where they stood. They both felt...deep feelings for each other, the soulmarks were certainly proof of that, but plenty of friends felt deep feelings. Cedric's thoughts wandered back to the cloth covering on his wrist...Harry didn’t need to kiss it back...but he did. 

Eventually they made their way to the covered bridge and stopped, both resting on the railing. 

“Hogwarts really is beautiful,” Harry said softly, looking out at the lake and the mountains. “I don’t know why I don’t notice that every day. Now we’re going to leave and…” Harry grimaced, “The place I’m going isn't quite so beautiful.” 

_ Oh Harry... _

* * *

“The place I’m going isn’t quite so beautiful,” Harry muttered. 

Cedric looked at him, something remorseful in his gaze, “I’m sorry.” He said plainly. “I wish...I tried to convince Dumbledore...no one will listen to me.” 

Harry shrugged, trying to ease Cedric’s worry, “It’s okay Cedric, really.” 

“It’s not okay, nor will it ever be okay,” Cedric insisted. 

“It’s not as bad as it used to be,” Harry answered. And that wasn’t a lie, was it? He wasn’t locked in a cupboard, got to write letters to his friends, and he could focus on a return to Hogwarts. Physical pain was just...something he was used to. “Really, Cedric I can handle it. They don’t...they can’t hurt me anymore.” 

And  _ that  _ was a lie, wasn’t it? 

Because Harry had realized that even as he had learned to endure, to push aside pain, to compartmentalize it and move on, he hadn’t learned how to stop being hurt. Just because he could survive it, didn’t mean it wouldn’t leave him with new scars. It still hurt. 

Cedric rested a hand on Harry’s on the railing, rubbing a small circle. The touch was small, but comforting. 

“The thought of leaving you there alone...terrifies me Harry,” Cedric grimaced. “Please promise me you’ll write the second you feel you’re in danger. I don’t care what Dumbledore says about the bloody wards, I will get you out of there.” 

_ I can’t promise that.  _

“Okay.” 

Cedric swallowed, intently watching a bird flying over the lake, “I...I care about you a lot.” 

Harry felt hope blossoming in his chest, a feeling so deep, yet so light he almost felt like he could fly. Could it be reciprocal? Could what he had only allowed himself to hope for in dreams be a reality? 

“Cedric…” 

“Harry,” Cedric turned to him, his voice steady, and rested a hand on each of his shoulders. “I need to tell you something and I really should have told you sooner and if I weren’t an idiot I’d have realized it a lot sooner... I love you. And I think part of me has loved you for a really long time. And I know part of me will love you forever.” 

He was so happy he could have cried. 

“Uh, good,” He managed, feeling that his words sounded quite lame next to Cedric’s. “Because I do too. I mean, I really meant it. I love you. Honestly I think when I was pining after Cho I was a bit of an idiot...I think if anything I was actually jealous of her, for er, having you...” Belatedly, he realized he was rambling. 

_ Smooth, Potter.  _

Cedric stared at him for a long, intense moment, and Harry lost himself in that gaze. 

“Harry,” Cedric spoke, barely a whisper. “Can I kiss you?” 

Harry leaned in response, couldn’t even find the energy to nodd, his skin trembling under Cedric’s gentle touch. And, as the sun reached the mountains surrounding Hogwarts and turned the sky golden, Cedric pressed his lips against Harry’s, drew him closer. It was all at once chaste, yet intimate, desperately forceful, yet infinitely tender. Shivers, sparks of foreign emotion, leapt through Harry’s nerves to travel down his spine.

Moments later, all too soon, they broke apart. The space between them felt suddenly unbearable. Their eyes met and Harry lost himself for a moment in Cedric’s gaze. 

“Was that alright?” Cedric asked softly, brushing hair gently across Harry’s forehead. 

“Merlin, yes,” Harry said in reply, leaning in again. 

Cedric quickly responded in kind, pressing his lips against Harry’s. This was deeper, stronger, both of them more confident. The world seemed to fall away, Harry found himself consumed by Cedric’s presence. Waves of feeling struck him and he felt his knees suddenly turn wobbly, unsteady. One of Cedric’s hands moved lower, his arm circling around Harry’s waist. 

It was the only thing that kept him from collapsing. 

* * *

Harry returned to Gryffindor tower before lunch the next day, parting from Cedric reluctantly. In the Hospital Wing, it seemed, they had a sort of invisible, protective bubble around them. People came through to visit them, but they were guarded from the majority of the school. Now they had to face it. 

From what Hermione and Ron told them, Dumbledore had spoken to the school that morning at breakfast. He had merely requested that they leave Harry and Cedric alone, that nobody ask them questions or badger them to tell the story of what had happened in the maze. Most people, he noticed, were skirting around them in the corridors, pointedly avoiding looking at them. Some of them murmured nervously, rumors about what could have happened to return them in such a state were running rampant. But really, they didn’t seem to pay much real attention to them. 

That was alright with Harry. Neither of them made any deliberate measures to avoid their relationship becoming public, but it was just all well people were distracted with other matters. 

Cedric and Harry spent mid morning with Hermione and Ron, going down to Hagrid’s for a cup of tea. Harry found himself somewhat nervous for this, unsure of how Hagrid would react to him and Cedric but determined to tell him the truth. Hagrid had gone quite for a moment, then abruptly stood and wrapped them both in a big hug. 

And, despite the growing darkness, despite the horror they had endured, Harry’s heart felt warm with happiness. 

Harry found himself dreading lunch though, not wanting to face the crowd. 

“Don’t worry,” Cedric, who had insisted on walking Harry to the portrait, pulled him into one of the alcoves nearby. “I have no intention of us returning to the Great Hall before the leaving feast tonight.” 

Harry turned his head curiously at the older boy, smiling, “What are you planning?” 

Cedric grinned, “Don’t worry about it. Meet me back here in...forty five minutes. I have a few...errands to run. I love you.” 

Cedric said that often and unabashedly, as if he was afraid he might not get another chance. 

“Okay,” Harry squeezed their interlaced fingers and reached, kissing Cedric softly on the cheek. “Love you too.” 

Harry also said that often, because he was also afraid he might not get another chance. 

And then, struck by a wave of certainty and confidence, he leaned forward. Cedric responded instantly, pulling him close. Harry reached up, looping his arms around Cedric’s neck and tangling a hand in his hair. Somehow every kiss with Cedric felt more incredible then the last, every nerve in his body shuddering and quaking with feeling. They broke apart, all too soon, and Cedric gave him a tiny, playful shove towards the door. 

“Go on, Harry, before I can’t leave. I won’t be long.” 

Harry grinned, feeling lighter than air as he walked away. 

Forty-five minutes later he met Cedric, who pulled him into a hug by way of greeting, “Harry,” He said softly, pressing a small kiss to Harry’s forehead. 

“Cedric,” Harry intertwined their fingers as they broke apart. 

The older boy grinned, holding up a bag in his free hand, “Harry,” He said softly, strangely earnest. “Would you care to join me for a picnic? Some might even call it uh, a date?” 

_ Oh.  _

“Yes,” Harry said in an instant, smiling wildly. 

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to ask you that, Harry.

* * *

“The end,” Dumbledore said solemnly, looking around at them all, “of another year.” 

And what a year it had been. Harry would have sworn it was a lifetime and a half ago he left the Dursleys that summer, went to the World Cup, watched his name come out of the Goblet of Fire….so much had happened since then. He shivered, memories running past his eyes. There had been horrible, frightening things that had happened. He’d almost died. 

Harry glanced down at the red cloth tied around his left wrist and then at the Hufflepuff table, where a pair of soft grey eyes smiled back at him. There had been wondrous, incredible things that had happened. He’d fallen in love. 

“I’m sure by now rumors of what happened on the night of the Third Task have been shared by you all by now,” Dumbledore continued. “And the truth is far more serious than any of them have suggested.” 

Pensive murmurs rippled throughout the Great Hall.

“Upon reaching the Triwizard Cup Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory, both as Hogwarts champions, chose to take the cup together and tie. The cup transported them far away; they were kidnapped. That night they both faced Lord Voldemort.” 

Panicked whispers replaced the murmurs. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror. He looked perfectly calm and allowed them to mutter themselves into silence. 

“The Ministry of Magic,” he continued, “does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so--either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think that I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies. I believe you have a right to know what kind of world you are living in.” 

Harry’s gaze returned to the Hufflepuff table, meeting Cedric’s gaze, and wishing for all the world he could march over and pull the older boy into a hug. He wasn’t sure which one of them needed the assurance more. 

“Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory,” Dumbledore said, “both risked their lives for each other on multiple occasions. They showed us, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor them. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff house will tie for the House Cup this year.” 

Students turned to stare in surprise, muttering to each other. Harry couldn’t find any real energy to care. Dumbledore went on, welcoming all students present in the hall back if they so choose, stressing the importance of international cooperation, and reminding them of the strength found in unity. 

“I believe Harry and Cedric have shown us an incredible lesson,” Dumbledore said finally. “They have shown us all, including Lord Voldemort, the strength of love and friendship. We are all soon approaching the time where we must make the choice between what is right, and what is easy. Remember, when all hope seems lost, that the light can be found. Stay strong, together.” 

* * *

The weather could not have been closer to reflecting Cedric’s mood on the journey back to King’s Cross if it had consciously tried. There was not a cloud in the sky. It was still painful, it would always be painful, and terrifying, but he had never been so happy to be alive. He had realized, thinking about how close to death they came, how easy it was to undervalue the simple privilege of drawing breath. 

Cedric, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had managed to get a compartment to themselves. After he returned from his Prefect duties Harry had repositioned wordlessly, letting Cedric rest his head on his shoulder. Neither Hermione nor Ron seemed to care, both of them smiling at the pair. 

Conversation turned to the  _ Daily Prophet.  _ Cedric scowled as Hermione revealed that, like usual, there was absolutely  _ nothing  _ of substance in the paper. She also revealed, much more happily, that Skeeter was an Animagus and she had captured her. After that, Cedric began to slowly tune out the conversation, a series of yawns tearing their way out of him...

He wasn’t sure if it was sheer exhaustion, he’d barely been able to sleep since they left the Hospital Wing, or just how incredibly comfortable Harry’s shoulder was, or the steady rocking of the train, or some combination of factors, but Cedric found himself steadily lulled to sleep…

_ Harry was screaming. Harry was screaming and he was tied to a gravestone and blood was running from his mouth...Harry was dying… _

_ The song of a phoenix.  _

_ Cedric was screaming. Cedric was screaming, crying out to his soulmate, running...his feet pounding at the ground...but some unseen force was holding him back… _

_ Cold, hard laughter echoed in the darkness...a flash of blinding green light...screaming… _

“Cedric?” someone was murmuring softly in his ear, shaking him gently awake. “Wake up love, you’re dreaming.” 

“Hmm?” for a moment he stared around in fright, trying to distinguish reality. Harry’s gaze caught him, his presence steady, grounding. Cedric relaxed with a sigh, leaning back on Harry’s shoulder, needing the reassurance that he was really, “Oh,” he said softly. 

“It’s okay,” Harry said softly. “I get them too.” 

The door of the compartment slid open and Cedric tensed again. 

“Trying not to think about it, are we?” Draco malfoy said slowly, advancing into the compartment and smirking. Behind him stood Crabbe and Goyle. All three of them looked immensely pleased with themselves. “Trying to pretend it hasn’t happened?” 

“Get out,” Cedric said flatly, standing up protectively in front of the other three. 

Cedric, thankfully, had not been any closer to Malfoy than was necessary over the days before they left Hogwarts. It was all too easy to look at him, the spitting image of his father, and remember Lucius Malfoy’s laugh as Harry had screamed. Blood roared in his ears, his pulse quickened. His hand gripped his wand under his robes. 

“You’ve picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, the first day of Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this!” He jerked his head at Ron and Hermione. “I suppose you think you’re safe now you have for Perfect Prefect Prince here to protect you,” Malfoy sneered at Cedric. “Too late now, Potter! You’ll all be the first go, now the Dark Lord’s back. Muggle Lovers, Mudbloods, and of course, poofters, queers and fa--” 

Draco Malfoy, abruptly, stopped talking. It was difficult to talk, of course, when you’d just been punched in the face. Hard. A second later it was though someone had exploded a bow of fireworks within the compartment. Spells blasted from every direction, deafening and blinding. 

Cedric looked down on his feet. He, Harry, Ron and Hermione were on their feet, all having used a different hex--or in, Cedric’s case, a punch and a hex. Nor were they the only ones to have done so. 

“Thought we’d see what those three were up to,” Fred said matter-of-factly, stepping over Goyle and into the compartment. He had his wand out, and so did George, who was careful to step on Malfoy as he followed his brother. 

“Nice to see you have it in you,” George said, giving Cedric a pat on the shoulder. “Never thought I’d see Pretty Boy Diggory punch Malfoy’s lights out.” 

“He deserved it,” Cedric muttered. 

“That he did,” Fred said cheerfully, turning to him. “Also, I know you’re…” he gestured vaguely at Cedric’s wrist and continued just as cheerfully, “In love, and everything, but if you hurt him we’ll make the rest of your time at Hogwarts living hell.” 

Cedric nodded solemnly. 

“Interest effect,” George said, looking down at Crabbe. “Who used the Furnunculus Curse?” 

The compartment settled easily into a game of Exploding Snap after that, Cedric and Harry unconsciously reaching to hold each other’s hands. The twins beamed at them, apparently they had been placing bets on the matter. When Harry offered his half of the winnings to the twins Cedric quickly followed suit. 

He didn’t want the money; looking at Harry, Cedric knew he had everything he needed. But the world, especially in light of what had happened, would always need more laughter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we have reached the end. I do hope you've enjoyed, I gained an immense amount of happiness from writing this. There is a sequel to this story!


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